This song is like every conversation she ever had with him. And so she put it at the end of a mixtape as the sweet, slightly desperate punctuation mark on a soundtrack that screams, “Please love me.” The mix stays in her purse on the off chance she’ll one day find the nerve to give it to him. A scenario plays out a million times in her head — she hands the mix to him under the awkward pretense of “I thought you’d like it,” or “Just cause,” hoping he’d get the hint by the final track.

But the CD instead makes its daily voyage just from her purse, to her car stereo, and then back into her purse again. Just in case.

The first time I heard “Un-Thinkable” was in my best friend’s car, and we both fell silent. Alicia’s distinct timbre washed over me and the lyrics dragged me to my own thoughts. When the song was over, I realized she was quiet too. Then she ran the track back at the end of this mixtape she made, and that she puts in her purse every day in the hopes that she’ll one day find the nerve to give it to a special someone.

And therein lies the power of the ballad, of A. Keys, and of great songwriting. It makes everyone feel the music was constructed for their lives. It makes folks put it at the end of a mixtape as the sweet, slightly desperate punctuation mark on a soundtrack that screams “Please love me.”

Bravo, Alicia. Bravo.