a message, stashed at one exact place until you stand there
47.00000° N 122.00000° W
You don't get a notification. You get a map. Somewhere out there a friend stashed something for you — a jab, a memory, a love letter — pinned to a real spot on Earth. The only way to read it is to go stand where they left it.
no spam · no feed · just a note when there's a spot to stand in
What a stash looks like before you get there
Someone, somewhere, is waiting on you.
◆ On the map
Someone stashed something for you at a pier in Seattle.
412 mi away · from someone · 6 days ago
whatever it says, you can't read it from here — and that's the entire point of the thing
Opens only when you're standing there.
The whole loop, fifteen seconds
Stash it. Forget it. Let the place do the reveal.
Stash
Write it, pin it to where you're standing.
One tap drops it at your feet. Choose a friend. Send. That's the whole job.
Wait
It goes silent.
No alert, no preview, no hint of what it says. It just sits at that spot — for a day, or for years.
Arrive
They stand there. It opens.
Being in the exact place is the only key. No shortcut, no screenshot from the couch. You had to go.
Two kinds of stash
Findable, or a secret you may never get back.
◆ On the map
The hunt
It shows up as a pin on their treasure map. They see where — never what. A little quest: go get it.
⚑ Buried
The secret
No pin. No hint. No signal at all. A message in the sand, found only if they happen to stand there. Maybe never. That's the point.