look right for happy

You could say that this is a love letter of a sort.

We land at G'wick and I get a little antsy. I scan the room for you - and you're not there.

In town I go straight to the closest store and get Marmite and Salt and Vinegar crisps.

The familiarity of it all reminds me of... well... me. Of how I came to be me. Through you.
And it hits me with the force that turns everything upside down and I end up being in a position I shouldn't be in.
Because it's highly inappropriate.

Six years and I didn't know where I ended and you began.
Two years and I still miss the touch.

I. love. you.

London beats NYC any time - except for the times it doesn't /smiles/.