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The night bakery is open , as it is only ever open at night . Over the door hangs the sign , " OPEN WHEN THE CITY SLEEPS , " and on the flour bin Pamuk the cat sleeps , curled and grey . Mert waits behind the counter with flour on his hands . The bell over the door rings . Just after midnight , Sevim knocks , her blue headscarf as familiar as the hour , and asks for " yesterday 's bread . " Mert gives her today 's loaf and takes only yesterday 's price , and she goes home . The bell rings again , and a young man steps in , twisting his hands . " Your most expensive bread , please , " he says . " It is for someone I love . " On the bin , Pamuk lifts her head , and Mert understands that the night is the young man 's . He does not reach for the costly loaf on the high shelf . Instead he wraps a plain , generous loaf , the kind that is made to be torn in half and shared , because love is not a thing you buy ; it is a thing you share . " The oven knows , " Mert tells him , and nothing more . When the young man has gone , his bread under his arm , a single old coin is waiting on the windowsill . Mert adds it to the small tin , which is heavier now than it was a week ago . Then he turns the radio down low and says , " Goodnight , " to the empty street .
