He leaves and kisses you gently in the doorway. It is a soft kiss, one that lingers longer than it was supposed to. There is the feel of his hand on your neck, your hand touching his shirt collar where fabric meets skin, and you breathe each other in.
There’s something magical about doorways – they’re an in between – not arriving, not leaving, like a space where you can live immobile for a few minutes. They don't happen between strangers; those kisses happen in a club, drunk, outside before you get in the cab. Doorway kisses don't happen when you're in love; those kisses happen on the bed, in the kitchen, in the bathroom with a toothbrush still in your mouth.
These kisses are special because you’re not quite there yet. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you excited, that leaves you on one side and him on the other as you say goodbye.