Vidadi Babanli - When The Concsience Is Silent

He ran up the white marble stairs two at a time. He held his breath while sitting on the third floor of an old, but nice building where a basrelief of a mother and a child was engraved. He smarmed his girlish hair covered his forehead with both palms and did not move until his heart beating calmed down. Then he stepped forward slowly, came nearer to the door where it was written with thick and gilded letters “Professor Sohrab Gunashli”… He lifted his right hand slowly and reached out the call button looked like black spot in the corner. However, his trembling fingers did not touch the button, slipped and fell down. He made a step backwards. And put off his pocket absolutely new handkerchief. He wiped sweat out off his neck without rush, put his clothes in order and raised his hand again towards the button. The heavy, panel door was opened quietly. A short woman with fluffy hennaed hair thrown over shoulders looked out behind the door. "Who's there? Who do you want?" The boy swallowed his salivia due to excitement. "It's me... Is Professor in?" The woman did not answer. She stared strangely at the swarthy, handsome boy who stood in front of her while bending his head over his chest. And she hardly turned her fat, articulated body to call somebody from the depth of the rooms.