The screams were louder this time. The music was becoming more frenzied.

When Ahmet reappeared, he was stumbling away toward the back of the club. His drink was gone. He was leaning over and holding his head. He went down a back hallway toward the bathrooms. He turned and spotted her. He waved her over.

Elizabeth followed. Was he sick? Was he having some kind of health problem? He looked like he was about to throw up.

She had just met him a few moments ago. They had hardly even talked. They had only just started dancing. Everything was going great. Now this.

What was wrong?

Ahead of him in the dark hallway was a lit up exit sign. It was red, showing a male figure going through a doorway.

SORTIE D’URGENCE

Emergency exit.

Was he having an emergency?

Elizabeth put her drink down on a wooden railing and went after him. She moved down the narrow hall. She caught up to him.

His face was stricken.

“Ahmet! What’s going on?”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Should I call someone?”

He shook his head. “I need fresh air, that’s all. Please join me outside, just for a few moments.”

He pushed his way out the emergency exit and stumbled off to his right.

No alarm sounded.

Elizabeth looked back at the dance floor. The people bobbed and moved, packed into the small space. She still felt high as a kite. She wanted to dance. But a new feeling was washing over her. She suddenly felt confident, and larger than life, like she was Ahmet’s protector. He shouldn’t be out in the alleyway, sick, by himself.

She would be the strong one. She followed him out into the night.

Behind her, the exit door slammed shut. There was no knob or handle on the outside. The door simply closed flush with the wall of the building. Maybe she could pry it back open with her nails, maybe she couldn’t. There was no time to worry about that. Ahmet was still ahead, stumbling down the alley, holding himself up by using the walls around him.

There were garbage cans and dumpsters back here. It was a long, windowless alley between buildings, and it smelled like rotting food. Circular fans blew steam out the back of restaurants.

“Ahmet?” Elizabeth shouted. “Are you all right?”

He raised a hand to her.

She came closer.

“Ahmet?”

He stood upright and turned to face her. He seemed to be crying. His eyes were red. His mouth hung slack.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I get migraines. Do you know what this is?”

She nodded. She kind of knew what a migraine was, she kind of didn’t.

“Headaches?” she said.