I love sending you bad photos to see which ones you keep.

I’m keeping the sticky note you left because it says ‘buy milk’ and me.

I like that you remember my dentist appointment and nag me kindly.

I left your salted snack on the counter so you’d come and take it.

I enjoy your stubbornness when you insist hot sauce belongs on everything.

I laughed at your terrible pun and saved it in my head for later.

I like that you steal the duvet and then offer the pillow as compensation.

I adore that you keep a pen behind your ear like a tired carpenter.

I’m grateful you took the photo where I blinked and pretended I didn’t.

I sent a photo of the weird cloud and waited for your caption.

I like that you hide the good snacks and then share them grudgingly.

You’re the person I want to know if a stray cat belongs to anyone.

I smiled reading your grocery list and added ice cream underlined for you.

I love that you clap at the end of bad concerts and mean it.

I like that you call me out when I pronounce ‘quinoa’ like a villain.

You’re the reason my playlists contain three more silly songs than they should.

I want to steal your hoodie and keep pretending it fits me perfectly.

I appreciate that you remember the name of the barista I forgot.

I still check my phone expecting a small, stupid message from you.

You’re the first person I imagine when I find an extra slice of cake.

I love the way you apologize for burning toast by offering more butter.

I’m glad you’re the one who knows where I hide the spare keys.

I keep your worn sweater on the chair so I have something to steal.

I missed the tram but didn’t mind because I texted you instead.

I noticed your coffee cup by the sink and felt a stupid, steady happiness.

I like how you laugh when you misread the recipe and still serve dinner.

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.