Attention first, because it goes missing earliest and gets noticed last. Being listened to for longer than it takes to say the thing. Being remembered — the appointment, the name of the difficult colleague. Being touched in ordinary welcoming ways that ask nothing of you: a hand on your back going past in the kitchen, a knee against a knee. Being laughed with. Being wanted, and knowing it, in a normal week with nothing special in it.
Then the half of it that runs the other way, which almost nobody practises: looking at a face you had stopped seeing, asking him the sort of question nobody else in his life would think to ask. And the thing he has gone years without and has no vocabulary for, because asking to be wanted feels to a man of fifty-four like admitting that he is not.
Then the half most of them skip. How wanting changes shape over years instead of simply stopping, and what it arrives after now that it no longer arrives on its own. What it costs you to reach for someone and be told not tonight, and what you quietly decide on the fifth time. How to be light with the man you live with, after years of rotas and gas bills. And how to tell a quiet season from a dead one.
It is written for two people who share a kitchen, a rota and a bank account, and who would both rather be chosen than scheduled.