It was sunset, just after the last prayer. The air was cool and the park had drained of strollers.
I was about to up sticks when a voice said ‘Salam’. I looked up and saw a mop of golden curls on a chiseled ebony, handsome face. The smile took my breath away.
‘Marhaba’, I replied.
‘ Come’ he beckoned with an outstretched hand.
I followed without a second thought, the smile, demeanour and body could not be refused.
We stepped into the crowd and headed through
the souk. I had no idea where, but felt a lump in my throat and another in my groin.
