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that coursed through her every time she thought of him. The windows of her third floor suite were thrown open to the warm, grey-skied Istanbul afternoon. Birds were plentiful on the lawn of the historic residence building, surrounded by trees and gardens carefully tended by a huge staff. A soft meow at the window sill brought a smile to her face.
    “Suleyman!” She cried and carried the large stray cat into her room. A scruffy thing with a missing eye, he’d been hanging around her bedroom window for over a year. The window ledges of the old building were large, perfect to accommodate his sleeping form. She kept food out there for him, and sometimes in the night, he’d even snuggle into her warm body but would always bound away the next morning, seeking adventure.
    “You magnificent thing you.” He must have been in a mood to be cuddled. His loud, rusty purr was good company. He rolled over onto his back and batted at her hair that hung down from her face as she rubbed his matted fur. “I wish you would stay. I will clean you up, find you some girlfriends….” She laughed when he yowled at this as if he understood her. She rolled over onto her back, her mind fuzzy with remembered sensations of Levent—his hands, lips, tongue and body. The cat climbed up on her chest and sat, staring at her, as if willing her to talk.
    She ran a hand over his head, scratched behind his ears as he leaned into her, his purr revving up again. “Oh my magnificent cat. I think I’m in love. And I think I may die if Monday doesn’t hurry up and get here.” She picked up her journal and stared at the latest drawing. She’d added the small scar to Levent’s beautiful face. The silly animal moved between her and the picture, rubbing his face against the edge of it, his purr drowning out the end of day birdsong and call to prayer from the mosque below the consulate hill. Vivian sat and doodled a quick picture of the cat, his magnificent huge head and war wounded eye as he curled up in a ball on her white bed cover and slept. No one had missed her around the huge residence, no one had inquired about her late entry last night. And she’d spent the entire day alone. If she showed up for dinner there’d be plenty of food, but why bother? No one would miss her there either. She drifted off to the sounds of the imam reminding the faithful that God was good.
     
    ***
     
    Vivian freshened her lipstick and pulled her hair back with a new headband, mentally smacking herself for seeming so eager. She’d been the first in her seat for class. That never happened.
    “You sure are making a big fuss over yourself,” one of her English friends commented, flicking at her hair as she passed by. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vivian fiddled around, putting her hair back in place, and tried not to be too obvious as she watched the door. Something compelled her to see him. Had to have him in her space. It was a completely new sensation, slightly irritating, like an itch deep in your ear you couldn’t reach, but that demanded your attention constantly. As each student filed in, in pairs or singly, she’d sit a little straighter then slump down when it wasn’t him. Finally the professor rapped on his desk to get their attention and the class commenced. Without him.
    Her leg twitched and her nerves were a jangled mess by the end of the fifty-minute period. Before Lillian or any of her friends could comment or stop her, she leapt from her seat and dashed out, single-minded and tunnel-visioned. She jumped into the back seat of her waiting car and barked at the driver to take her to the construction site where she knew damn good and well Levent would be. If he thought he could ignore her after their amazing connection, he had another thing coming. She barely recognized her own face in her compact mirror as she reddened her lips with a shaking hand. This incredible compulsion to see him, hear his