She'd always come running when I called, well figuratively anyway. The experience of that rush of warmth when her headlights punched holes through those dark and cold nights. The litany of why me questions she'd serve as I kept my hands firmly pressed on the vents to chase away the chill. I'd never known anyone before or since who could shift so smooth. Especially given the roughly 75 scrunchies positioned on the gear shifter.

I would share with her the joys and triumphs of the seventeen year old psyche. Then after waiting out the enevidable diatribe on my selfishness we would move onto a uneasy silence. The one constant through the numerous rides home was to break the silence she would begin singing with Linda Perry to "Drifting". And what struck me most during that three and a half minutes was the conviction in her voice and tears in her eyes. After one such rendition I kissed her and then felt the need to immediately explain my reasoning. She held a finger to my lips and told me to kindly get out. She continued to come whenever I needed a ride but the kiss was never discussed.

So Sam, the reason I always called you for a ride is the same as why I kissed you that night. I just wish you wanted to hear me say it...