Night moves

It was a Saturday night and we were back home after partying. It was cold as fuck. The kind of British cold that makes your socks wet, but somehow he hadn't put his hands in his pockets all day. Until he came to the balcony to freeze with me before bed, even though he didn't smoke.

The views were fantastic from that 10th floor flat overlooking the river. Without fog you could see the whole city, from Canary Wharf to Westminster.

Earlier that day, I had slipped a note in his pocket. It was a matrioska of notes, so he would unfold one and find another one inside, to force pauses between sentences, for a dramatic effect.

I don't remember what I wrote (except for the last sentence), and I don't remember what he said back. I do remember the way he looked at me after reading it: he felt special. He was.

I've seen that expression in many faces and I loved it every time.

Please, don't let another day go by without making someone you care about feel special.

It's so easy, and makes life worth living. For all of us.