Today I express love to each person I meet.

Turning a phone face-down on the table is a small, unromantic act, and it communicates more than most declarations. It says: for the next twenty minutes, nothing is more interesting than you.

Expressed love, day to day, is almost entirely made of attention — being asked a follow-up question, being remembered as somebody who doesn't drink, having a name pronounced properly on the second attempt. It rarely announces itself, and it's very hard to fake, because attention takes the one resource that can't be quietly conserved while you pretend otherwise.