She wrote it by hand, on a beat up piece of notepaper, the soft grain present under the heel of her hand. The pen blotched a little on some of the hiragana, the soft tip catching a little against the firm paper where she felt it yield. Chosen carefully, smiling to herself as she did it, blushing a little as well.
Then she picked up her iphone, and she took a photograph
and threw it
to a man-made star
where it landed in his living room, lighting up the screen, and the room, with the brightness of his smile.