>>22171339“Golden Arches and Unreachable Stars”
Hasan’s life in Berlin was anything but glamorous. Back home in İzmir, he had dreams of owning a small café by the Aegean, serving tea and fresh simit to locals who knew his name. But Germany was different. Germany was survival. Germany was long shifts at McDonald’s, the smell of grease clinging to his clothes, and aching feet at the end of every night.
And Germany was also Scoopsies.
Hasan didn’t know if that was his real name. Maybe it was a nickname, something intimate that only his friends used. But that’s how he introduced himself the first time he walked into the McDonald’s near Potsdamer Platz, his deep brown skin glowing under the fluorescent lights, his tight designer turtleneck hugging his delicate frame.
“Iced caramel macchiato, oat milk, extra shot, no whip.”
Hasan had never heard a voice so smooth. It was the kind of voice that belonged in a different world—the kind that didn’t belong in a fast-food joint at 11 p.m. But Scoopsies did belong. Not because he fit in, but because he owned every space he entered. He was a prince among mortals, gliding past grease-stained countertops with effortless grace.
