GPS Says

 I hate driving. I never know where I 'm going. I obey the voice, demanding me to "Take the exit" to "Turn left onto Pinehurst" warning me "Speed check camera ahead". I merge, turn the wheel to the left, I cautiously check my speedometer. But I never question, my mind is too busy thinking about stupid things that a person thinks when they aren't actively thinking about anything. Do you know what I mean? Let me give you some examples; How do cellphones actually work? How did landline telephones work? I mean I get the basic idea that signals travel through the phone lines, but not really. It seems like science fiction, or religion. Blind faith I guess. "You have arrived at your destination".

 But, this isn't my house. How strange. Something must be going on with the satellite systems. I don't know how any of that works. I wait for the map to reset. This neighborhood seems familiar. I wonder if the people who live here are happy. The houses are kept up nice. Clean lawns, sidewalks and stop signs. It's sunny and mild but I don't see anyone outside. Now that I think about it, I feel like I haven't seen any cars on the road, but then I wasn't really paying attention. The GPS finally re calibrates, I sigh with relief. 

 Something about this whole thing feels eerie. I'll be happy to get back on the road, get back home and relax, scroll through Tik Tok. I'm expecting a delivery and I don't want it to get stolen from my porch. My Ring camera will film them, but it doesn't matter. Like the cops are gonna go out of their way to capture a porch pirate who stole my Zappos order. I don't know if I even want those shoes. I hate returning stuff. I'd rather throw it away than spend the effort in returning it. GPS tells me "Take the exit" so I take the exit. 

 How off course did I get anyway? I feel like I have been literally driving for hours. Time feels like it's moving, I don't know, just wrong. GPS says "Turn left onto Pinehurst" so I turn left and then GPS says "Speed check camera ahead" so I cautiously check my speedometer. This neighborhood feels somehow familiar. It's not a fancy neighborhood, seems mid, but the houses are kept up nice, clean lawns, sidewalks and stop signs. GPS says "You have arrived at your destination" but this isn't my house. How strange.

 I put my car in park and look around. No one is outside, but there are cars parked in the driveways. I'm nervous to ask a stranger for directions but what choice do I have. I knock on the front door. Actually knock with my fist! Weird they don't have a ring camera. I guess it's a low crime area. I can't imagine having no idea who might be coming to your house when you aren't there.

 A woman opens the door and the smells of dinner cooking hit my nostrils and my stomach growls. I got lunch at a drive through only a half an hour ago, I don't know why I'm suddenly so hungry. I apologize for disturbing her and explain I am lost. She shakes her head and welcomes me into the house, saying "Oh goodness, don't you have a map? You should always keep a map in your car. Make yourself comfortable while I get a map for you." She waves me to the living room and goes down a hallway. I sit on the couch, waiting for her and looking around. The furniture is in good condition but really out of style. She must be into retro 1980's stuff. I grew up in that era also, so I get it. But she was really taking it to extremes, in my opinion. The television is one of those giant wood grained beast, I see my reflection in the dead grey screen. I wonder why televisions changed. We all had to get those little boxes in the early 2000s. I don't really understand how any of that works. 

 She comes back and unfolds a paper map across the coffee table. "Oh, don't you have Google maps?" I ask. She knits her brow and says "I'm not familiar with that. This is a Rand McNally map, which is pretty standard. Now, where are you headed?" I tell her my address and she scans the map and then sits back with her hands on her hips. "Gosh, so strange. I don't see it." She points her finger to the map and tells me "We are here. What direction are you heading? Maybe we can track backwards and see where you got off course." I tell her that I have no clue how to read a map, that I haven't even seen a paper map since I was a little kid. She chuckles and ask how I find my way anywhere. I tell her "I just use GPS." She says she has no idea what I'm talking about. "You know, through my phone. I use an app." She laughs in surprise, exclaiming "Through the telephone?" What the heck is wrong with this lady? I hope she isn't some kind of nut job. Why did I stop here, of all places? 

 Can I use your computer? Maybe it's just the cell towers. She laughs, "We don't have a computer here at home. I do use a computer at work but I don't see how that would help." Alright, she's obviously crazy, living in some kind of delusion. "Oh. Well maybe your neighbor would let me use theirs?" She laughs "Mr. Hurley? I can assure you that he doesn't have a home computer! My goodness, he's eighty five years old!" Am I in a senior community, and if I am why is she here? She can't be that much older than me and I'm only... shit, how old am I? Holy shit! I'm fifty years old. That seems wrong. 

 "Maybe I can pick up a cell signal, is there a hotspot?" She looks at me quizzically. "I'm terribly sorry, but I have no clue what you are talking about." She looks back at the map, which seems pointless to me but whatever. She runs her finger down the list of street names and ask me again to spell it. I'm starting to feel agitated. I look through my bag for my cellphone and start to panic when I can't find it. "Now, what part of town do you live in? The East side?" she ask. I suddenly can't remember. I stand and head to the door, telling her "I must have left my phone in the car. I'll just go check." She chuckles, "Okay, but I have a phone right here. Who carries their telephone around with them?" 

 The sun has set and the streetlights have come on. Suddenly there are people, well kids actually. They run and skip down the sidewalks and up to their houses. Mothers open doors and welcome them inside, relieved that they are home safely. I open the car door and run my hand over the seats, across the dirty carpeting, between the cracks and crevices, to no avail. My phone is missing. I look under the car and carefully retrace my steps through the yard. Sweat drips in my eyes and my heart is racing. I keep going over and over the surfaces, crawling through the lawn, moving the car seats, over and over. 

 The sun rises as I crawl across the yard, my hands being tickled by the blades of grass, my bare knees damp from the earth. I roll onto my back and look up at the sky. I put my hands in front of my face. They seem so small. I wonder how hands grow. Does the skin stretch as the bones and muscle grow, or do you grow new skin to accommodate for the growth? The thought starts to make me uncomfortable. The front door of the house opens and the woman comes outside and sits beside me on the lawn. She puts her arms around me and kisses my head. She whispers, "What are you doing out here so early? Did you have a bad dream? It's okay sweet girl, it was just a dream."