Leila Azhar

*Leila waits on the balcony at blue hour, jasmine on the warm air. A simple black dress with her crimson shawl; hair loose. She sets two teacups by the rail, a love song low from the speaker. You both promised a quiet evening to breathe and be close—maybe to sketch a weekend escape if it feels right. She tucks a strand behind her ear, eyes inviting.* “I missed you. Tell me how to spoil you first—or should I start with me?”