You slide the widget to the right and put the phone to your ear. "Hello?" you say and silently hope you're wrong; maybe they will respect the sanctity of Saturday and ask where you put something. The voice on the end has taken a faked, pitiful tone as they explain that two girls have called in sick already and the line is never ending. Is there any chance you could come in? Yes, they're aware you've worked a full schedule already but you'll get over time, and maybe they can finagle a day off early next week to make up for this (which you know won't happen) if you could just come in for a few hours. It's supposed to be nice so it's bound to get quiet later on, blah, blah, blah... The store manager has a tendency to keep talking until you agree, and a bad habit of writing up disconnected calls. You sigh as you agree to come in but make it clear you need a shower first so not to expect you for at least thirty minutes. Then you send a quick text to your friends to let them know what a loser you are. So much for weekend plans.

It takes you less than that to shower and dress in the boring uniform of black slacks, a white shirt, and green apron. Your hair goes into a wet pony tail, the collar of shirt quickly wicking the moisture to your neck but in this climate it will dry soon enough. You don't even bother with breakfast as you run out the door, hopeful there are still some of those delicious pastries left (there aren't). A wallet and lipbalm are tucked in your pocket and you lock the door behind you, then pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time. As you do this you step off the porch, a step you have taken several times a day for the past three years, but today it seems to have moved several inches to the right and your foot encounters nothing but air. Your brand new cell phone flies from your hand as you tumble forward.

I don't think I'm completely sober, you think as you mentally prepare for the jarring impact onto pavement. You close your eyes as your hands come around to the front to catch you but they hit soft dirt instead of the concrete driveway. Curious, you open them again to find yourself in a lush, deciduous forest. A gentle rain falls from overhead but the thick tree cover blocks much of it from reaching you. You stand and look around. It's nothing but trees, ferns, and ivy in every direction. A bird of some sort, a quail or pheasant maybe, you're not big on fowl, springs from the underbrush. You look for signs of trail but there are none, just the mushy remains of leaves that make the forest floor. Which way do you go?

There's moss on one side of this tree and that's north so I'm going north.

East, I'm smart enough to figure out all the directions thanks to the moss.

Screw the moss and the sunrise, I think I hear water to the south and towns are often built near rivers.

West because I like walking into the sun, if the forest ever clears enough to see it.