Franklin

2 | of the nest and its keeper

               “By here,” I impatiently walk back and forth; “I didn't know the guesthouse at the end of street, by all the small shops and a diner, across from the arcade that stays lit up till late at night, was where we were supposed to be.”

               Andy gets out of the car. "Nicely described, that. But don't start with me, Stevie. Where'd you think we were gonna lodge?"

               I cross my arms. "Well not, you know, not at The Nest. Not where all those missing people stayed. This place is practically a SOC."

               Andy's deadpan expression morphs into a frown. "Well, unless you have a distant relative in Franklin whose property we can trespass, I am afraid you have little choice but to comply with me."

               She knows she has me there. I grit my teeth and reach for my backpack lying on the back seat before following her up the stairs to the entrance.

               "Okay, here goes nothing." Andy announces. "You ready, Stevie?"

               I eye the three storey high stone inn. It is difficult to verbalise how or what I feel. For one, The Nest has definitely seen better days. For another, I did not want to overthink this. I did not want to compel myself into being a part of this toxic cycle where my thoughts become my worries and my worries become my thoughts.

               "Yeah." I nod slowly. "After you."

               We walk inside to a family of four gathered in the lounge, bonding over a board game.

               "How may I help you?" A man from behind the reception desk asks, cutting my admiration for the cobwebs hanging overhead the family short.

               "Kevin Smith?" I read out loud what I am assuming to be his name from a black desk sign placed centrally on the desk top, equidistant from a rather appealing nest shaped crystal ashtray, and a rather worn out A3 register.

               Kevin clears his throat. "Are you looking for something?"

               "Yeah," Andy places her backpack on the desk. I wonder whether the strata of dust that laced it escape her notice, or if she is simply one of those people. "A room here, actually."

               Kevin narrows his eyes and opens the register. "Never get to hear that line much around here anymore."

               He licks his fingers to flip through the pages.

               "No?" The question slips out before I can help myself. "Not even with all the attention the town's been getting lately?"

               Andy shoots me a What-Are-You-Up-To look.

               Kevin looks up too. "Are you the police or another one of those nosy reporters or what?"

               "Neither." Andy gives him her best fake smile, onto damage control. "Just two very old college friends who decided some time away from the city will do them good. Right, Richard?"

               Right, except we are not friends and I am not Richard.

               Kevin pushes the register towards Andy. "Just write your name in there."

               She writes down a made up name and address. I follow suit.

               "That'd be eighty dollars for four days now. Forty each."