From the Quiver of Cupid
My dearest …,
I did the rounds before dawn and let a great many paper hearts go over the rooftops, and one of them had a name on it that I wrote myself, carefully, because I like getting names right: .
People think my job is sweethearts. It is a very small part of it, , and honestly the least interesting. Most of the love in the world is nothing to do with romance at all. It is the person who saves you the good seat. The one who notices you have gone quiet. The one who shares without being asked and then does not mention it again.
Those are the arrows I am proudest of and nobody ever writes songs about them. So today, if you want to do my job for me, tell somebody a specific reason you are glad they exist. Not "I love you" — that one is easy and they have heard it. Tell them the reason. Watch what happens to their face.
I noticed , which was a small kindness that cost you something, and those are the ones I count.
and a great deal of affection —
P.S. — Hearts are not really that shape. Nobody knows why we draw them like that. I have been carrying them for centuries and I gave up asking a long time ago.