He playfully slid his finger down the bridge of my nose and then caressed my pouting lips.

"Smile," he said with his gentle caramel-like voice.

"Sorry..." I whispered, stroking his short, almost non-existent hair.

His finger glided on my skin - from my lips to my cheekbones and finally down my neck. "You know," he now also murmered. And then, with more clarification, "I will come back. I don't know when this Gulf thing will be over, but I will come back."

I dried my tears, not wanting to show my sadness and doubt. "I'll...I'll miss you and think of you often...come back soon."

And then, he was gone. And all that was left was the faint aroma of his cologne. n