he did understand, a loss like mine.  I could tell he was hurting, his face said it all.  It was the kind of knowledge only someone who’d been the first to fall head over heels in love with him would know.  An intangible connection that we shared, much like any pair of lovers.  I strongly believed that ours was the greatest love, the only love that would ever be.  The kind that would last centuries, like Lancelot and Guinevere.  At least when I was seventeen I did.

He could still read my mind when he continued.  “There was a car accident.  Killed two of my best friends.  I wrote a whole album about it, and that’s what made the top of the charts for months.”  His eyes held me, their grip as tight as when we lost our virginity to each other.&n...

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