It never ends

You sit up on the musty leather seats. The checkered blanket that was laid over you slides to the floor. What looks like pine air freshener is dangling from the rear view mirror, but all you can smell is cinnamon. Looking out the tinted windows you can see that the car is parked on the street, next to neat rows of identical grey brick houses.

You're not sure how you got here.

You've got a bad feeling about this place. Maybe it's the way the houses seem to be looming over you. Or maybe it's the dark thunderclouds that are starting to roll in.

Either way, you'd like to get out of here. You try the doors, but they're all locked, and the button to unlock them isn't working.