He would crawl into bed every morning, just before sunrise, sliding beneath the covers and draping a hand across her hip as if he had been there all night. She tried to find comfort in the scent of his cologne, a special blend of spices that he wore only at home, but when she rolled over to inhale more deeply and bestow a kiss upon his lips, the smoothness of his cheek caused her to draw back. The lack of overnight stubble reminded her of the dress shirts she pretended not to notice in the bathroom hamper - torn off buttons, smudges of exotic-colored lipstick, and ghostly white stains.
Love will destroy us all.