LEILA . . He waited for me then, giving me a few minutes to pull myself together and pack a few things from my closet and my scattered life, a small bag containing clothes and toiletries and my laptop, because even in the midst of this spontaneous escape, the reality of work still clung to me, demanding my attention, reminding me of the life I was built around. He took me in his car, the ride was beautiful, the city skyline receding in the rear view mirror, replaced by the blur of green as he drove us north, heading away from the concrete jungle. It was the first time in his car with freedom, not as a prisoner in the back seat of one of his town cars, but as a companion, sitting beside him, sharing the space, and everything smelt beautiful, the clean scent of the car mixing with the f

