The worst thing about it is that is doesn't seem wrong.
That is seems so right, so natural.
He kissed her, it was all he knew how to do.
He had been back for five weeks. They had both by now realized that Sandy wasn't coming back.
It had just taken her longer to realize.
Last night he had found her in the pool house, his pool house, sitting on his bed, he was convinced that she had been waiting for him.
She was crying, she had jumped when he had entered the room, he had tried to back out of the room, leave, but he couldn't.
He couldn't watch her cry, but he couldn't leave either.
So he walked into the room, sat next to her, took her hand, wiped her tears out of her eyes, kissed her.
She kissed him back.
She kissed him back passionately, desperately.
She pulled away, "He's not coming back, is he?" Her voice sounded hollow.
He simply shook his head, no.
She kissed him again, he didn't stop her.