el amor te ha abrumado?

Peopl came to watch our band play.  They were kids I knew in college.  They didn't say much but I didn't really care.  I overheard someone looking for me in the convenience store.  It was C.  I chased him down and we embraced. 

"How are you??" I asked and I saw tears in his eyes. 

"I still love her," he said.  And I knew exactly who he meant: A.  All of their turmoil over four or so odd years, and so many years passed and he was still torn apart.  But I wasn't. 

"I figured it out," I said. "I finally figured it out."  I was talking about love.

"What?" he said, "Tell me what it is."  The brother of a guy I was seeing romantically at the time was also in the store.  The brother had identified himself as such.  Just then. 

"Like, his brother," I said, pointing to the guy, "his brother thinks I love him.  But that's nothing!  That's not love."

"My brother is going to cry," the boy said, "he really fell for you."  It seemed to me this kid's brother must cry very easily.  His brother might have even said so, or given some examples of times he had also cried.

"We haven't even known each other two months," I said.

Then I ran down a hill overwhelmed because of love.  The hill was covered in snow and their were signs about steam-induced slipperiness.  I went back up, slowly.