Somewhat to her chagrin, that night Zain took a blossom from a jasmine necklace Ghazwan had bought for her from a vendor on the Corniche and pressed it between the pages of her journal. What a cheesy thing to do! But he ran after me like a teenager, and was so happy to see me, I felt like his long-lost homeland!
* * *
Zain walked into the office of the magazine she wrote a weekly column for and handed her materials to the editorial secretary, who invited her to stay for a cup of coffee. The telephone rang. Zain was about to leave his office out of politeness when he said, “It’s for you!” So he left instead!
“Hello?” Zain answered.
“Don’t have any coffee there,” she heard Ghazwan’s voice say. “You’re having coffee with me at the Horseshoe Café.”
“I can’t believe this! Is somebody payin
