I met Shannon in May. We had only four days together before I had to return to Australia. The night of the fourth day I told her I was in love with her. Long distance phone calls and email and Skype followed, for two or three months, before I put enough money back into my account to buy a ticket to visit her in New York again. I returned in August, and a week into my trip I suggested we walk the High Line: "If tomorrow is a nice day", I think I said. Well, tomorrow was a very nice day, and so we bought iced coffee and caught the subway to Chelsea. We wandered the whole length of the old railway in the sun, me lugging a C330 that I hadn't yet used, and trying not to think too much about the diamond ring that I'd snuck out and bought from a jeweler in Nolita the day before, and which was now sitting inside a felt box in my pocket. Halfway back along the High Line, we stopped in the shade. She leaned against the railing, and I took her hand, and pulling the ring box from my pocket I told her that even though we'd only spent a total of twelve days in each others' company, I wanted to share the rest of my life with her. I opened the box and asked her to marry me. She said yes.