I miss the grocery aisle where you argued passionately about which tomatoes to buy.

I miss you; even the ordinary fact of you is tender today.

Valentine's has me missing your text at 3 a.m., short and half-joking.

I miss your backpack with the sticker of that band we barely know.

I miss you and the terrible coffee you make that you swear is ‘fine’.

I miss the small victory dance you do when your plant doesn't die.

I miss the half-written grocery list you tucked into your pocket and forgot.

I miss the way your keys jingle when you get home late.

On this day I miss you standing in the kitchen trying to flip pancakes.

I miss the playlist you made that got stuck on one song all week.

I miss watching you read and frown at the margins of your notebook.

I miss you enough to admit I checked your messages without asking.

I miss the crumb of toast you left on the counter and didn't notice.

Valentine's has me missing the small ridiculous things — your pen that always leaks.

I miss your voice saying my name wrong in that soft, teasing way.

I miss the smell of your shampoo on my pillow from yesterday.

I miss sitting with you in the laundromat while our socks tumbled.

I miss the button on your coat I sewed back on last week.

I miss you — even the way you sigh when the bus jolts.

I miss your chipped mug from that tiny stall we found together this morning.

I was glad you asked me to stay a bit longer tonight.

I keep replaying your thumbs‑up emoji and smiling at how thoughtful that was.

I want to say: I am proud of how you handled today.

I noticed you tied your shoelace for me without making it a thing.

You left your gloves on my doorstep and I liked carrying them upstairs.

I felt lighter after our short, honest argument; thank you for staying.

I like being the person you rant to about slow Wi‑Fi.

I wanted to tell you: today I relied on you and it felt safe.

I noticed you wiped the crumbs from the table and I noticed you.

I love that you always leave one fry on your plate for me.

I felt warm when you handed me your scarf without saying why.

I liked that you read my draft and circled three honest things.

You humming that song while you cooked made me look up and laugh.

Your chipped fingernail polish is the detail I remember from this afternoon.

I love the short messages you send at odd hours; they steady me.

I noticed you fell asleep with the light on and it made me smile.

I was glad when you chose the blue napkins for dinner; simple, honest choice.

You making coffee badly at 7:12 made me so glad I’m here.

Today I wanted to tell you: I miss your laugh in the kitchen.

I keep smiling at the memory of your jacket left on my chair.