She realized in their accidental meeting at an airport that she could still recall the exchange that had ended their week-long relationship some thirty years back.  He had opened the door to her dorm, and she had said, Goodnight, and he had said, The coldest thing to say to me is always on your mind.  What could he have possibly meant?  She said it took a decade to realize that his remark may not have been an attack upon her as much as a voicing of extreme desire, but that, in the end, both had felt as thrusts upon her.  He had been the first with whom she had stood her ground.  Did he remember?  He replied with a No, that he did not remember, and picked up a feeling he was in some way standing his ground.  Well it’s true, she snapped, and as abruptly grabbed her carry-on, threw him a good-riddance wave, and rolled off.  That feeling of standing his ground lingered in him.  He kept digging around it till he sensed that it could not have been him with whom she had been involved, that it had to have been his roommate at the time, and that in this chance meeting he had been but a substitute to blame for the sins of the original.