Ben,

You always said I should tell you the small things more often. I always meant to. So here they are now, far too late, which is exactly the sort of thing you'd have teased me for.

The way you warmed my side of the bed without ever once being asked.

The face you made at the first sip of coffee, like it had just saved your life, every morning, like it was breaking news.

How you said my name when it was only us. Lower than when there were other people in the room.

That you cried at the dog movie and then dared me to bring it up.

That you always, always remembered which earrings.

You were the one who was good with words. So this is mine, and it's only a list, because a list is the most honest shape I have left.

I loved you in the small ways, because the small ways are where you actually lived.

I'm still finding them. I don't think I'll ever stop.