The map said left. You went right. The road turned to gravel, then dirt, then two tire tracks through grass that hadn't seen traffic in weeks. At the end of it: nothing special. A clearing. A stream. A view that wouldn't make a postcard. But you remember it more vividly than any landmark you ever aimed for. Because the best places are never the ones you circled on the map. They're the ones you found when you stopped following it.