He ran his hands through her long, auburn, silky hair, not once breaking his contact with her lips. She knotted her fingers into the short hair at the back of his head, making him moan into the kiss.
Unwillingly, he pulled apart. Duty called. 'I love you.'
'I love you too.'
'I have to go.'
'I know,' she sighed, 'Be careful. Stay safe.'
'I will. I love you.'
'I love you.'
He gave her one last short but sweet kiss on the lips, and pulled her close to him, before letting go and taking his suitcase. This was the worst part of his job, the most painful and hardest part of their relationship. But it only made them stronger.
'Goodbye.' He called.
'Goodbye. I'll miss you. I love you.' She called into the still, empty darkness of the house; the early hours of the morning.
But he didn't hear. He was gone.
