Was it on our 3rd Valentine's Day together, when you still gave me roses (which wasn't my flower of choice, or anything that takes more imagination than money really) that I realised that you didn't know what I liked? I knew what you liked, but I was always a black box to you.

When a plane crashes, people will find the lone black box recorder which survives and play the last recorded message repeatedly to try to find out what has happened. But we had radio silence until we flew into the hills.

Hi. This is me. I'm happy, but suddenly I thought of you.