Love is lying.
When I scoop the scallops on your plate and you ask me if I had any yet. Of course I haven't but they are your favorite and that is all that matters.
Love is an alley oop.
When I am trying to scoop the lotus root in the takeout container and you use your chopsticks to help me without prompting.
Love is a puzzle.
One we race through together and I give you the final piece to put in.