You showed up with fries when I said I was starving and it mattered.

I love the small comfort of your hand on my shoulder in crowds.

I enjoy how you correct my grammar and then tease me.

You send me voice notes and they’re the best part of my workday.

I kept the train ticket from our surprise day trip.

Please text me when you get home tonight so I stop worrying.

I admire how you apologised first the other day.

You put your headphones on and hummed the chorus—made me grin.

I’m relieved you’re on my side about that meeting.

I like that you keep my secrets even when no one’s watching.

I’ll bring ice cream tomorrow; pick the weirdest flavour.

I appreciate you correcting my nonsense with gentle honesty.

Tell me about the plant you killed and we’ll both laugh.

You still remember my coffee order and that’s ridiculous and lovely.

I want to thank you for waiting at the bus stop that night.

You always find the best silly captions for our photos.

I feel calmer after talking to you for five minutes.

I keep the movie stub from the first night we laughed until we cried.

Say one honest thing about your day when you can, I’ll listen.

I’m proud of how you handled that call with your boss.

You make my apartment feel less empty at 2 a.m.

I’m grateful you remember my mother’s birthday.

Bring the green tea you always forget at my place next time.

I feel steadier knowing you’ll tell me the truth, even when it stings.

I smiled at the photo of your ridiculous haircut from college.

You read my rambling messages and still reply with patience.

I want to sit on your couch and do nothing with you this weekend.

You lent me your hoodie and I keep it for when I need you.

I notice when you’re quiet and I worry in the small way friends do.

Thanks for holding the umbrella over my head that time it poured.

I miss your voice more than I expected today.

You make bad pizza nights bearable.

I’m glad you answer my late texts even when you’re tired.

Woke up thinking of your chipped mug on the shelf and smiled.

I like how you clap when the choir hits the high note.

You still remember my joke about Mrs. Patel’s cat and that makes my day.

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

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.