I love you more than life, more than life.

It's one of those better days.

I wish I had photographs to show you.

Picture the warm 8 am sun on your skin, cool winds to match a foreign country tossing your hair and playing with the balloons tied to your bag. It looks simple really, bags scattered on the gray stone floor and the crowd packed a few metres away, making a somewhat distant noise in the canteen.

But you're in another place, away from the congestion caused by the rush of gift givers and excited lingering of receivers. You're somewhere where there's a perfect balance of sun, wind, shade and company. Next to you a friend plays a ukulele. She's not very good, but you don't really mind. You sing along anyway.

Alfred comes and hands you two heart-shaped balloons. You give him a hug, then tie it to your bag, allowing it to join the menagerie of balloons attempting to flee from their binds. You never knew green against red and p*nk could make such a pleasant combination.

From a distance they smile a secret smile.

Six saunters towards your circle, hands behind their back, yet not enough to hide the ever so symbolic glint of silver wrap.

From where you sit you can't help but notice the uncanny comparison to a boy band, and you wouldn't have been surprised if they suddenly broke into song and dance. It would have been appropriate. The girls begin to yelp.

You, as one of them, follow along.

Assuredly, Ryan hands Hui Yi one of those stalks he had been hiding behind him.

She screams. You smile.

He hands you one too.

You smile, again. Wider this time.

You might have screamed too, but you can't really remember.

Even if you did, it wouldn't have been louder than Sophie's.

Apart from the fact that you didn't writhe on the floor in glee like she did.

Haha.

There's so much more but if I typed it out,

It would have sounded normal.

But it wasn't.

It was beautiful.

Somewhat comparable to that 6.30 pm Anderson afternoon.

The golden magical (can't find another word for it) sunlight, and the distant acoustics playing in the background.

Sitting alone in front of the council room, blacks (I didn't call them blacks then) folded up to the knees and leaning against the blue circular pillar.

Was it cold? I can't remember.

But it was perfect.

No, not quite the same.

But good, nonetheless.

Lonely Valentine? No, not quite.

Just a little incomplete. A little, a lot.

You said you'd never regret, and never forget.

But then again, hadn't I said that too?