You were at the door by the time I groggily registered your kiss goodbye and your squeeze on the nape of my neck. I got up from my tea, just caught up as you were ready to go, to kiss you back. “Have a good day,” I croaked and you laughed, and winked and smiled. “You too,” you said, and closed the door behind you.
I was writing through a knotty section with the afternoon sun on my back when I noticed. The warmth of our kisses had faded away, but the feeling of your fingers lingered like a cat perched all day on my shoulders. I leaned into my chair, loosened up, sent you a text, and tried a new line of attack.
Oh shit, I thought, as I looked up from my work and realised you’d be home soon. Our fridge was a mess but I could turn the leftovers into something passable. Half an hour later, giving the pan a good, last toss, I heard your key in the lock, the door open, your slouch against our closet. I turned the heat off and walked over to you. As I held you, you leaned into me. “Long day at the office, huh?” I asked into your hair; “So many meetings I didn’t need to be in,” you said as you mussed up mine. You turned your head to show me the gleam in your eyes was back, and then you pulled me in for a kiss.