text: Jackson is driving through an affluent area of the suburbs. Someone had told them that his ex-girlfriend had moved in with an older man and had given him the address. He located the street and is now crawling along at less than five miles per hour while talking on the phone with his friend Connor. "I think I see it; it's the brick one on the right," Jackson says. "If she catches you stalking like this, she'll get a goddamn restraining order," Connor warns. As the car approaches the enormous brick house, which is valued at about a million dollars, Jackson slows down even further to see if he can peer through the window. "Bro, this place is huge; I can see someone watching TV through the first-floor window," Jackson says. "You've got to get out of there; they'll notice someone driving by their house peeking in their windows," Connor says. "Relax, her car isn't even there; she's probably still doing yoga on Thursday nights," Jackson says. "Still, you don't think that guy is going to notice you, take your plate or something, you're in a rich neighborhood, they got community watch and stuff," Connor says. "I want to see what this guy looks like; I'm thinking about knocking on his door and pretending to be from the gas company or something," Jackson says. "Last time I checked, gas company employees don't wear Panera polos," Connor says. "I'm not that stupid; I'll throw my hoodie over it," Jackson says. "Look, I don't want to put a damper on your Oceans 11 plan here, but people from the gas company don't generally show up in a Honda Civic, with no credentials and wearing a hoodie," Connor says. Jackson begins to make his way into the intersection, past the brick house. Jackson stretches his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who stole his ex-girlfriend. Suddenly, there's a crash! Jackson had run a stop sign and collided with another car. "Damn, I got into a car accident right in front of my ex-girlfriend's new house," Jackson says. "You've got to get out of there before she comes home, bro. She'll have you arrested if she sees you stalking on top of what occurred at the bar over the weekend," Connor says. "I know, I know, I was only driving a couple of miles per hour; how bad could it be? Let me handle this, and I'll call you back," Jackson says as he ends the call. Jackson notices Philomena, who is in her mid-to-late-sixties, inspecting her front grill. Philomena sobs, "Oh, my Lancer, my Lancer, my Mitsubishi Lancer." Jackson takes a deep breath as he prepares to get out; however, Philomena notices him and quickly walks to his car. "Hey, Lightning McQueen," Filomena says, "you went straight past the stop sign and hit my Lancer; the front end is completely smashed." Jackson exits his car and walks up to the front of her Mitsubishi Lancer. Jackson points to the grill and says, "First of all, I was only driving like three miles per hour, and second of all, there is no damage on the front of your car." "You see spider cracks, spider cracks, it may look like nothing now, but trust me, three months from now, and I'll have a grill that looks like a mosaic painting," Philomena says. "This is absurd; your car has no damage, lady. So, are we going to exchange information or what?" Jackson says, attempting to expedite the process. "I don't like the tone of your voice; you're the one who hit me. And you know what, I might have grazed my forearm on the steering wheel. I believe you fractured my ulna, ouch, paramedic, 911, please alert my loved ones that my ulna bone has been shattered!" Philomena yells, drawing the neighbors' attention. Jackson is becoming frustrated and keeps returning his gaze to the brick house. Because of the accident and Philomena's cries, neighbors have begun to congregate. "Why are you creeping down the road in this neighborhood? This is a cul-de-sac neighborhood, one way in, one way out," Philomena says. "I know someone who lives here; I was looking for their address," Jackson says. "A likely scenario is that you are checking out the place with the intention of returning later with your friends to do a GTA V. I know you're a type, I'm calling the police," Philomena says. Philomena pulls out her flip phone. "Hello there, police. My name is Philomena Jordan, and I'm calling from Bayview Estates, a wealthy cul-de-sac off Route 7. I have a young criminal here who is attempting to perform a GTA V," Philomena says. "You're going to get it now... what, oh okay, I'll hold. The police put me on hold, but when they come back, then you're in for it," Philomena says. A man emerges from the brick house. Jackson is completely engrossed because the man is much older than he expected. "Why do you keep staring towards the Smith house? Is that the house you want to vandalize?" Filomena asks. "Did you say the Smith house? Do they have a daughter?" Jackson asks. "Yeah, Cassandra, or Sandra, or Darlene, I can't remember. But I'm not going to sit back and let you rob that poor family," Filomena says. "No, I used to date Andrea, their daughter. We had a falling out, and all I wanted to do was catch a glimpse of her; I guess I miss her," Jackson says. "Do you mean you're here for love?" Philomena says. "I know I'm not supposed to be doing this; I actually saw her at a bar over the weekend. I didn't know she was going to be there with her friends, and when I went to go talk to her, they left," Jackson says. "That's a harmless mistake; what's the big deal?" Philomena asks. "I couldn't stop myself; I followed them out to the parking lot and chased her to her friend's car; they raced away afraid," Jackson says. Jackson's phone then beeps, indicating that he has received a text message. It comes from Connor. "Bro, I just noticed Andrea coming up Route 7; she's only about 5 minutes away; you need to get out of there!" "Andrea is almost home; if she sees me, it'll be over for good. She'll almost certainly file a restraining order against me," Jackson says. Philomena looks at her car before returning her attention to Jackson, who appears terrified. Philomena closes the phone. "You seem like a nice guy, but you need to give Andrea some space. You know what they say: if you love something, let it go; if it returns, it's yours; if it doesn't, it wasn't meant to be. Why don't you leave before she gets home?" Philomena says. "What about your spider cracks and ulna bone?" Jackson asks. "The police have never taken me seriously since I reported those seagulls for pooping in public. Anyway, it's not that bad; between you and me, my Michael Bublé CD went between the seats, and I may have been trying to get it out before the crash. But if they ask, I'll never admit that to the police!" Philomena says. Jackson smiles. "Thank you," Jackson says as he returns to his car. "Good luck," Philomena says. Jackson drives away from the brick house, waving. Philomena returns to her Mitsubishi Lancer as Andrea pulls into the driveway. Andrea glances around at all the bystanders and asks her father. "What's going on?" "Filomena hit something else with her car," he says. "Those Michael Bublé albums are more dangerous than they'll admit.