Autumn in Philadelphia Trilogy

The Return: Last Stop on the Road to Nowhere

"Making assumptions simply means believing things are a certain way with little or no evidence that shows you are correct, and you can see at once how this can lead to terrible trouble. 

-Lemony Snicket

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He wasn't sure how he ended up moving from the shop across the street into the Hotel itself. It certainly wasn't his intent to ever step foot inside the Library again, but he there was, sitting on the bed of Room 800.002 surrounded by mementos of Classic Fiction. The room seemed different than when he was last there. No doubt there had been some remodeling done in the years since, but the exact changes he couldn't put his finger on. He sat still, studying the walls, with his hands gripping his knees.

Now what?

Shawn Hunter let out a heavy sigh and stood up. As he did, he could swear he heard a ghost of laughter behind him as memories of him, Cory, and Frankie driving Mr. Williams crazy flooded his mind.

Wait-Mr. Williams? That wasn't right...why had they been with Eli and not Jon? Shawn frowned trying to recall the details. He turned to look behind him, half-hoping the answer would be there. It was not, of course.

His shoulders drooped momentarily before he shook himself and got busy unpacking the bag he had with him. He wasn't sure how long he would stay. That depended on how long it took to retrieve his things and ID from the Matthews' place, preferably without dealing with Cory. Shawn let out a huff of frustration. At least he had his phone with his digital wallet on it and the Hotel accepted that form of payment. Focusing on the task at hand with more intensity than was necessary, he put away his clothes and the few other things he carried with him. One of those items was a large box with rubber bands wrapped around it to keep the top on. Inside was a collection of letters that had never been opened. With the last item out, Shawn lifted the duffle bag to put it away. Something heavy rolled inside it. He frowned and set the bag back on the bed. He reached inside and smiled as his hand enclosed around cool rounded glass. He pulled out an old, worn snow globe with the Statue of Liberty inside; it was the one thing that went with him wherever he went. Shawn continued to smile, but the more he looked at the globe the sadder his smile became.

Did you know that Jon married the nurse who took care of him after his accident?"

He watched the snow, yellowed with time, fall on the American symbol of freedom. Shawn was everything but free. He felt trapped, like he was imprisoned in a very tiny cell the walls of which were closing in on him.

How could you, Jon? he wondered in despair. How could you?

A weight like heavy ice punched him in the gut and settled there. Shawn felt cold and hot at the same time. Emotions, so mixed together he couldn't separate them to name them, swallowed him. The only thing he could think to do in times when he felt like this was to run.

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Jonathan Turner sat alone in a dimly lit room of his home that was never used. A retro looking metal lamp sitting on the corner of an old desk provided the only illumination in the space. All the furnishings of the room all appeared to be from the late 90s rather than anything modern. The colors, the décor, the family photos of father and son, the report cards, the posters, the large window that was perfect for climbing out of: everything about the room declared it belonged to a 15 or 16 year old boy.