I noticed the corner of your book folded down and thought of you.

I still remember the exact words you used when you encouraged me.

I feel better when you say you'll be home a little late.

I put your spare charger in my bag so you won't worry.

I notice the mark of flour on your thumb and it makes me happy.

You told me a small truth and I respected you more for it.

I want to make you tea the way you like it, no fuss.

I am quietly proud when you finish something you've been worrying about.

I saved a photo you sent and look at it when I miss you.

I keep thinking about the sentence you said and it stayed with me.

I caught your coat on the chair and folded it the way you do.

I like when you correct my pronunciation; it makes me pay attention.

I want to be the person who brings you soup when you're tired.

You left crumbs on the couch and I pretended not to see them.

I am grateful you stayed on the call with me last night.

I notice the gentleness in how you touch your pen when you think.

I want to tell you about the small things that made me laugh today.

Your playlist is on repeat here and I keep finding songs I like.

You always remember to water the plant and it means a lot.

You make me want to call and tell you small, silly things.

I feel proud telling my sister about the time you fixed the heater.

I promise to answer the door at midnight when you come home from work.

I will carry your heavy bag up stairs without making it a thing.

I feel a simple joy when your playlist starts and I know your mood.

I want to be the one who packs your lunch when mornings are rushed.

I notice your penmanship and the way you cross your t's; it feels familiar.

I like that you reheat coffee twice and still drink it, stubborn and human.

I want to learn to fix that squeaky door hinge you always ignore.

I notice the way you tighten your shoelaces and think about small rituals.

I want to sit with you in silence and have it be enough.

I love that your jacket smells faintly of rain even after weeks.

I feel grateful when you check my hand in a crowded room.

I like you when you're impatient and tapping your foot—it's honest.

I will pick the slower lane in traffic if it means we talk longer.

I want to wake up and make coffee for you even on Saturdays.

I love that you steal fries from my plate and I never stop you.

Your chipped mug on the top shelf makes the kitchen feel like ours.

I am relieved knowing you'll be there for the dentist appointment I dread.

I saved the receipt from the butcher because you picked the good cut.

I appreciate how you dry the coffee ring from the table without asking.