Argh.

If you were driving in Khaldiya, on the main road, and passed the corner of Block 1, you probably saw a girl, pacing up and down on the side walk, waving one hand wildly in the air, the other hand holding a phone that she was screaming obsceneties obscenities into, choking on her rage from time to time and finally storming off in tears of murderous anger.

That was me.

The person responsible for that did the only smart thing that day by staying in the car when he finally showed up 45 minutes late for a big assignment. If he'd gotten out, you could've visited him today in the casualty ward of Sabah hospital, with a rusty garden rake sticking out of his skull.

When everything was finally ready to roll, I was still shaking with anger. I took my Mary Poppins bag and went into the bathroom to freshen up. When I was done, I realized I hadn't carried any of my perfume. All I had with me was Le Garçon's Polo Black that he had left with me. I took it out and sprayed on just the tiniest bit, aware that it was very strong and masculine.

And as his fragrance wafted up to my nose and I took a deep breath, for the first time that evening, I smiled. Everything was going to be alright.