You wake up to a good morning text and you're still typing when you fall asleep. The conversation never drops. They're curious about you in a way that feels rare, asking the follow-up question, remembering the small stuff you mentioned once, sending the song that reminded them of you. You've already told them things you don't tell people. You catch yourself grinning at your phone in the grocery line like someone who has lost the plot in the most pleasant way. And somewhere around day ten, you think it, quietly, a little embarrassed by how fast it arrived: this might actually be the one.