I picture us still sending each other one-line check-ins that mean everything.

I want simple future mornings where you steal my cereal and I pretend to mind.

I'll keep offering to help paint rooms even when our arms are sore.

I want to know we'll still meet weekly for bad takeout and better company.

I want to be the person who remembers your birthday before Facebook does.

I want a future where your plant collection takes over my kitchen counters.

Promise to nudge me when I'm buried in work and forget to eat.

I see us still sharing playlists and swapping books on quiet afternoons.

I'll make sure there's always an extra toothbrush in my bag for you.

I want to be the one you call first when you find a ridiculous hat.

Can we agree to clear snow from each other's cars when winter hits?

I misspoke: I don't just hope we'll stay close, I trust we will.

I want to keep a jar for movie ticket stubs from films we saw together.

I want a future that includes your terrible puns at every holiday dinner.

I will cheer the loudest when you get the promotion you deserve.

Let's promise to learn basic plumbing together so rental floods don't win.

I like thinking of us checking in with honest texts, not long speeches.

I'll be the one who helps you move boxes, no questions, every single time.

I want to argue about paint colours for an apartment we'll share someday.

I hope we still text each other a single gif at midnight on bad days.

I want to keep your postcards from trips and tack them on a corkboard.

Agree to an annual photograph in the same doorway so we can watch the years.

I feel sure we'll find ways to support each other's messy ambitions.

I want a future where we still steal fries from each other's plates.

Let's finally learn one recipe together and always mess it up the same way.

I want to be the person who shows up with soup when your throat goes.

I like the idea of decades of mundane texts from you about bus times.

Can we buy a cheap bookshelf and fill it with the books we swear we'll read?

I will always save you the last slice of pizza even if I'm starving.

I imagine us still trading playlists when phones are full of photos.

I want mornings where we sit with two mugs and argue about which bakery to try.

Tell me you'll remind me to call my mum when work gets messy.

I look forward to borrowing your oversized coat and pretending it fits me.

Let's set a rule: twice-yearly weekend trips, even if it's just to the next town.

I feel calmer knowing you'll be there when I screw up a job interview.

Can we promise to keep that awful drawer of chargers and actually label everything?

I picture us still laughing over the same dumb jokes when we're both grey.

I want to argue over thermostat settings ten years from now.

Promise me we'll keep celebrating tiny wins with cheap champagne.

I want to be the reason you call to say you found something funny.