A favourite mug with a chip at the top of the handle and the depiction of a city never visited by me directly but by you, missing me;
a cherished item put back each time with silent worry for wellbeing and the fearful notion that hands other than mine will not care for it properly and my return will find pieces of Paris instead of a whole skyline;
one of a near matching set, a half gift and one of the only physical ones given to you, with love, from me.