You see him sitting at the table. He looks adorable in his dress shirt and khakis. Hair neatly combed, so he has an actual part instead of a mess. The gel darkens it to a dirty blonde instead of the vibrant color you're used to.

  But you don't mind. You think this look suits him. Thankful that he's yours.

   You clench your box of chocolates tight to your chest. You wonder why you're nervous. You've been dating him for almost a year. Butterflies still flitter around in your stomach.

   You walk up to the table. He looks up at you and his smile brightens, filling the whole room with starlight. He is your star. You'd follow him across the night sky.

   You give him the box of chocolates. He examines it. You tell him there's only one flavor of chocolate inside. It's not one of those where each divot is a different flavor. Now, you're cursing yourself for not choosing to buy that kind instead.

   As if he read your mind, he soothes your worries, saying he cherishes this box of chocolates, is glad you think of him at all. 

   Oh, he does not know how much you think of him. One day, you'll articulate this, you think. But, for now, you'll relish in the moment.

   The magic of Valentine's Day. The saccharine air that trails you.

   You sit down at the table. Clasp your hands. You can talk to him for hours. But, in your head, no word is the right word. You've never had a Valentine. What do people talk about on a day like this? You wonder if you should act as though it's a regular day, or delve into sappy declarations of love.

   You've already exchanged the word with one another. Many times. How does one present it in a different way?

   He reaches over. Takes one of your hands, rubbing a thumb over the back of your palm. As if to say he's happy to just be in your presence.

   "I have something for you," he says. He bends over to grab something at his feet. A bright pink gift bag, with soft pink tissue paper. 

  "You want me to open this now?"

   "If you'd like."

   You decide that you would like. With delicate fingers, you take out the paper. At the bottom of the bag is a box. You glance up. His green eyes shine with eagerness. A hint of nervousness. He doesn't breathe. Neither do you.

   You open the box. A watch. Its face is a picture of you two. Your eyes water. You feel shown up because all you got him was chocolates.

   "Don't cry. Put it on."

   You obey, and you stare at the watch with admiration.

   "Now, when you check the time, you'll be reminded of the fact I'm thinking of you. You tick in my mind like the hands of the watch."

   You are reminded of the notion you wanted to articulate. He, your love, just did it perfectly.