Digital gifts, made by youMake them a gift they'll open again and again.

A room full of balloons. Pop them; every one hides a photo.

A paper card that opens, and a cake that stands up out of the fold.

A notebook whose doodles draw themselves, page by page.

You're invited. A birthday collage crashed by hamsters in party hats: tap one and it yells your line.

Five cats review their case, read out the evidence, and stamp a verdict.

Every tap slaps a meme sticker on the page. Twelve taps uncover the card.

Untie the bow. A pink gingham collage of real lilies, polaroids and your song.

Sealed with a kiss. Lipstick prints, polaroids, and every tap leaves another kiss.

Break the wax seal. Pressed flowers, a gold locket that opens, and a typed letter.

A surprise trip, revealed on a departures board.

Press power. Your photos on a little 2006 camera, date-stamped and ready to print.

Pull the curtain, press the button. Four flashes, and a strip of the two of you prints.

A basket on a gingham blanket. Every thing they take out carries a line from you.

Wind the key. The lid opens, a ballerina turns to the tune and your photos appear in its mirror.

Touch the planchette. A spirit spells out your message, one letter at a time.

Tap the moon. A swarm of bats spells out their name across it.

Drop in three things you love. The potion does the rest.

Watch a pumpkin get carved with their name. Then light the candle.

Open the gate in the storm. Every lit window holds a photo, and the door holds your letter.

A wax-sealed envelope, opened by hand.

Curtains, candles, confetti. Blow to make a wish.

Polaroids, washi tape and a torn note that says it all.

A garden that blooms as they scroll.

Every stem picked by you. It never wilts.

Bows, blush and a plushie who's happy to see them.

A candle, a blanket and a letter by the window.

Ring the bell. A small ghost has something for them.

Every photo is a star. Find them all.

Blow a paper plane from your door to theirs.

Shake it, and it snows on the two of you.

Her recipe, card by card, in her kitchen's handwriting.

Cheer, and the cap goes up.

Fold it with me, one crease at a time.

A jar of folded notes. Shake one out.

Tilt to pour, knock to clink, and the speech begins.

Blow the leaves away. A cosy Halloween collage of black cats, pumpkins, film and your song.

Turn the key. A gothic love collage of black roses, red velvet and your song.

Lift the tissue paper. A watercolour scrapbook of your photos, pearls and pressed flowers.

Hold the screen. Watch it open.

Press play. Your photo as the album cover, a pink sunset and a playlist of you two.

Unwrap the newspaper. Butterflies fly out of a sage collage of old print, a record and your photos.

Tap the ghost. A cute Halloween collage of your photos, pumpkins, bats and a black cat.

Light the candle. A cosy gingham collage of your photos, real leaves and their name in letter blocks.

Develop the film. A vintage autumn collage of your photos on film, an old book page with your names and pressed leaves.

Scratch to reveal. The last card is the big one.

From your city to theirs, in one flight.

Dusk to fireworks, timed to the second.

A road that draws itself as they scroll.

Drop the needle on their song.

A quiet gallery of the two of you.

Breaking news: it's about them.

Crack one open. Suspiciously accurate.

A conversation that arrives one bubble at a time.

Catch the hearts. Unlock the photos.