The little place with the lemons.
Leo flies for a living. A round table by the river in Paris, a train platform in Japan, a beach on a layover, a wet London street with a red bus going by. It would all be one long hotel room if he didn't write a line at each stop.
You know this without the uniform. You're at dinner with friends, trying to name the little place with the lemons. Was that the Italy trip, or the one after? You have the picture on your phone. Who was at the table, what was so funny and what you ordered are all gone.

