Guttering
He woke to the hissing and sputtering of the candles guttering in their stands. Gently, he pulled his arm from under the sleeping form that lay curled so trustingly against his side. Careful not to wake her, he slid from the bed, heard her murmur and adjust herself to the change, then listened to her breathing settle back into peaceful sleep. As he dressed in the darkness, he pondered how their love was reduced to this – the life of a candle. He tied his gunbelt down and drew on his boots. Someday, he thought, someday it won't be like this – the brief snatched moments, always in darkness, only together until the candles guttered. He longed to stroke her hair, to touch her one last time, but that would wake her, and he couldn't bear to say goodbye again. Instead, he blew out the remains of the candles, swung himself out the window, and silently left as he had come.