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“Tell me your greatest loves, the things you've loved the most, he said one afternoon.

That's easy, I said. My mother, my younger brother. And the ocean. Though does it count if what you love can't love you back?

Unrequited love is still love, he said. But it's never a great love. Can't be. It's one-sided. Except in the case of the ocean. For the ocean, we can make an exception.

How about you? I said. Big, real, soul-splitting loves. How many?

Real love? he said. Just the one time.

And I couldn't decide if that was better or worse than all the other loves I might have imagined for him.

How did you know? What made it so different from all the other times?

Oh, it's just one of those things. You know it when you see it.

Volatile, he called their love, but true.”