Its the little things that count. This morning he was puzzling over something, working out where a lecture would come in the semester, frowning over which week. Counting on his fingers. Apparently, even when you have a Ph.D, digital counting still means counting on your fingers!
So he holds out his left hand - because he is left handed (I've never been out with a right-handed man, isn't that interesting?). Then he holds it with his right hand, pressing his right thumb into the palm. He unfurls a finger for each count, and as he does, he bobs his hand up and down, only about a centimetre, a little dip, and then brings it back to where it was. When he runs out of fingers, he turns to his right hand and frowns at it, keeping the fingers of his left hand splayed out. And unfurls a new finger on his right hand for each continued number. When he's done counting, he examines his fingers, and those little puckers above his nose get the slightest bit deeper while he is thinking.
Those slightly curved, tanned fingers with their blunt ends and shapely nails.
Then he curls his hands up, and starts jabbing at his laptop again with his index fingers.
It's when he does the little things like that, that I know how much I love him.