Luna recalls a bitter November night in 2017 when a lost driver from the town of Mayhew pulled into Rest Stop 9 and told her about a porch light that never turned off. The woman—gray coat, damp sleeves, hands shaking—said she had been driving for hours trying to get back to a house she recognized. She described a yellow bulb on a wooden porch, a kitchen window with a crack in the glass, and the sound of a rocking chair moving on its own. She had left that house at 7 p.m. to buy milk, but the road kept folding, and every turn brought her back to the same rest stop. Luna listened, offered her coffee from the vending machine, and watched her drive away into the fog. She never learned the woman's name. But the next morning, she found a single key on the picnic table, rusted, with a tag that said 'front door.' This episode is a quiet reflection on roads that remember you, the weight of going home, and the things we leave behind in the dark.