I love that you call me out on my bad spelling in texts.

You told me the blunt truth about my haircut and I needed it.

You let me borrow your umbrella without making a fuss.

I miss your voice giving me directions when I've taken the wrong turn.

You fold your sweaters the same messy way and it makes me laugh.

I saved the ticket stub from the concert we nearly missed together.

You texted 'are you okay?' and I needed that exact question.

I like how you keep your plants alive and give me tips.

You cheer the loudest at my terrible recitals and I need that.

I want to tell you everything first, even the small stuff.

You once spent your lunch break bringing me paperwork I had left at home.

I feel calmer telling you plans because you ask the sensible questions.

You rescued my cat from the balcony and I still owe you.

I love that you remember the way I take my tea.

I appreciate you checking my apartment when the downstairs lock clicked weird.

You sent me a playlist for a breakup and it helped me sleep.

I notice the little notes you leave on the fridge and they matter.

You make running errands feel less boring and that's important.

I want to bring you soup when you're sick, even if you protest.

You laugh at my worst jokes and that's a rare talent.

I feel lucky to have someone who calls me out gently.

I love how you remember everyone's birthdays without a calendar.

You texted a single 'ok' and it fixed my whole day.

I trust you to tell me when I'm being stubborn and I need that.

I miss the spice you put in that curry only you can get right.

You came to my presentation and I kept thinking about your nods.

You make the worst puns and I love you for it.

I still smile at the hoodie you left on my couch.

Thanks for buying my coffee when I forgot my wallet.

I like falling asleep to your voice on the phone.

You once fixed my bike chain in the rain and I haven't forgotten.

I feel calmer when you send a dumb GIF at 2 a.m.

You held my hand in the ER and I keep thinking about that.

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.

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 want to argue over thermostat settings ten years from now.