Son compartido

The GPS took me to an old cul-de-sac. When I pulled up to the house, it was pitch black. No lights, no cars, just a "For Sale" sign rotting in the front yard. I turned around to tell her we arrived, but the backseat was empty. I figured she slipped out while I was looking at the map. But then I looked down. On the seat where she’d been sitting, there was a library card. I picked it up. The name was Sarah. The expiration date? October 1994. I don't drive that route anymore.