Every time you unwrap a ribbon I picture peeling a shirt instead — slowly.

I keep imagining your fingers tucking hair behind my ear and never letting go.

Watching you string lights made me want to drape you in something softer.

Your laugh at the carols is making me plan a later, quieter encore.

I felt full when you handed me the plate you made first.

I liked that you remembered to buy extra batteries and saved the evening.

I’m smiling at the way you folded the napkins; it’s the small careful things.

Your sleepy ‘come to bed’ after the clean-up was everything I wanted.

Your quick joke by the garland broke my stress and made me laugh again.

You walking back in with the last bag made the room exhale.

I felt calm when you tucked the blanket around both of our knees.

I kept replaying your whisper about the surprise and smiled the whole night.

Your tired ‘I did my best’ after the party was the sweetest sound.

I loved when you paused to show me the single ornament you rescued.

I liked how you chose the playlist and let me complain about one song.

Sitting with you while we waited for the roast felt like the best wait.

Your socks by the heater are making me plan to steal them later.

I felt happy watching you read the card out loud, stumbling over one line.

That moment you handed me the ribbon made me want to hold your hand.

I notice how carefully you folded the wrapping paper and it mattered to me.

I’m thinking about your cold nose pressed to the window and smiling.

You saying ‘save me a cookie’ felt like the nicest request today.

I love the quiet we shared while the oven timer ticked down.

Watching you wrestle the stubborn wreath made me laugh and love you more.

I can’t get over how you hummed through the carols while we wrapped gifts.

I’m happy you’re here, passing me plates and telling me which ornament goes where.

Seeing your mug by the sink made me stop and plan dinner with you.

Holding your mitten made me want to stay inside with you forever.

Your laugh under the tree made the whole apartment feel less small.

Woke up to cinnamon on your sweater and felt warm thinking of you.

I keep replaying your whispered question from the sofa and it makes me restless.

Your laugh stuck in my ear is a slow burn I can't shake off.

I want the low, deliberate way you say my nickname when no one's near.

Your scent on the pillow is a low, persistent wanting I didn't invite.

My day narrows down to the moment I can lean into you again.

The memory of your scarf left on my chair has become my current obsession.

I keep imagining your laugh right behind me and it tightens everything.

My mind keeps going back to the scratch on your knuckle from last week.

That chipped mug you use is the image I scroll to between meetings.

I untied your shoelaces quietly so you’ll have to kneel to retie them.