The street lights hum all night long. Mehmet Usta flips skewers on his grill until the kitchen glows gold.
One evening, three small robots roll up behind his shop. Their metal feet click on the cobblestones. Their round eyes blink curious blue.
The robots stop at the shop door and hover, not sure whether to knock or just stare. Their blue eyes flicker in and out.
Mehmet Usta wipes his hands on his apron and steps outside. He holds up a warm kebab toward them.
One robot whirs forward and picks up a skewer with careful fingers. Its joints make soft ticking sounds as it eats.
Another robot spins in a happy circle. Its little antenna waves like a flag.
Mehmet Usta pulls out three small chairs and sets them at the little table. He serves each robot a plate.
The robots sit side by side, eating quietly. Their blue eye-lights dim to a soft, warm glow.
From that night on, the robots come every evening. Clicking and whirring down the lit street, they arrive right on time.
Mehmet Usta always saves them the crispest kebabs from the grill. He sets out three plates before they even knock.
Every evening, the street lights hum. The grill glows gold. And three small robots click their way home.
The middle-aged man flips a skewer and smiles. The night is good.
