The air felt different up here. Rarified. “Hi,” I replied, controlling my anxiety. “Should I close the door?” “Yes please,” he said. “An... take a seat.” I closed the door behind me and made a beeline across metres of opulent carpet towards the chair in front of his desk. “Over there I mean,” he said, when I’d almost reached him, pointing to the couch by the wall. He was smiling at me, a genuine sort of smile. “Ok, sure,” I said, beaming back. Clearly I wasn’t in any trouble. I’d been a mixture. While I took a short nap on the hop from LA Gretchen being Gretchen spent the time chatting with a couple seated across the aisle from us. Where ever she is my wife has the amazing ability to find and home-in on the one person or couple or group of people around her that fit her description of “people I’m proud to call my friends”. “Good people” she calls them; this either as our Life1 or Life2 (see below) friends.Hopping into a cab I noticed a certain look in her eye. The kind of look that. More

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