He was a good idea. He seemed like a good idea. No, he was. He was definitely a good idea. She'd been travelling for years, crossing over and over the country. A ship in every port, etcetera. Connections made and kept over time, fixed in impermanence. New connections were made with no hard feelings. No expectations. And then there was a wall of youth to overcome. A desire to be true to one person. To have one person be true. She took it on task. Increasing the numbers. Culling back. And settling on the one least likely to be completely invested, to be damaged, by the experiment. 

She would later wonder if this made her cold. Aspergers? Autism? Or too easy, too current or fashionable or self important. Was she simply heartless? 

Gave herself over. Chose, and allowed herself to fall inlove with him. 

But he hadn't found his wall. Wouldn't find his wall until years later. When their connection was already damaged, thoughtless and mean, and ugly. A million promises of love and truth and faith forgotten. 

For a long time she forgot about falling inlove. Let it be less in retrospect. 

Later later, memory of the overwhelming love would override disregard, would be the comfort of time.