You are nineteen.  You're sitting in the passenger side of an American car parked on a sloping residential street in a coastal California town.

You're waiting for your ride (whom you know only slightly) to finish chatting with her friend in a house across the street.  She asked if you'd like to come in, you said you'd rather not.  You're shy of strangers and unafraid of the quiet street, even at night.  The Ride left her keys in the ignition so that you may listen to the radio.  Thoughtful.

The air is liquid; a fine vapour which may or may not turn to drizzle.  You rest your hot cheek on cracked, cold vinyl and watch the mist illuminated in street lamp-glow. Then the radio offers you a gift--- a song you've never heard before.  It is the Everly Brothers, though, that much you know:

Never felt like this until I kissed you
How did I exist until I kissed you
Never had you on my mind, now you're there all the time
Never knew what I missed until I kissed you

"...I kissed you"

You whisper a prayer into the vinyl.  You imagine his hand on your neck, where it often strays these evenings.  He strokes you, distractedly, as he would stroke a cat.

On the windshield glass: one drop of rain.  Another.

Things have really changed since I kissed you
My life's not the same now that I kissed you
Mmmm... you got a way about you, now I can't live without you
Never knew what I missed until I kissed you

On your coolhotsweetsoft cheek, a tear.  Another.

You don't realize what you do to me
And I didn't realize what a kiss could be

You watch as the street becomes a mosaic of light and darkness through the glass. Raindrops slip and stumble against each other, merge, then slide together. The streetlight is first pixilated, then strangely focused.

Mmmm... you got a way about you now I can't live without you
Never knew what I missed until I kissed you
Uh huh, I kissed you... oh yeah

Tears slip, too, from cheek to vinyl... you haven't.  Kissed him.  You can feel his hand on your neck, though.  You still feel that cool, distracted hand. If he would only kiss. Then you could have him.  Maybe you could have him.

You won't, though.    I can see the light through your eyes,  I can hear the longing in the Everlys' voices,  I can see how hopeless you are.   But you're not so far gone that you don't recognize grace when it envelopes you.   Accept this gift in the spirit in which it's given.   Rest your head against a cracked vinyl altar rail  and welcome the presanctified gift of your first heartbreak: the Everly Brothers singing 'Til I kissed you.