Everyone talks about the leaves in the fall. Something about the changing colors and the sound of them crunching underfoot draws people in. Even the smell of them slowly rotting across sidewalks and forest floors doesn't turn most away.

As Graham's windshield wipers swept away another errant leaf, he wondered how anyone could be so entranced by them. They were just dead leaves. He rolled down his window at a stoplight and reached around to free a stubborn leaf. The cold October air chilled his fingers. "Why did I agree to this?" he mumbled to himself.

His GPS beeped to redirect him down a side street. It corrected itself a moment later to lead him back to the main road. The damn thing hadn't been able to make up its mind since he got to the town. Even though he'd grown up there, being away for eight years had been enough to muddle the memories of what was where. They hadn't exactly been memories he was longing to remember anyway.

The display flickered and suddenly backed out of the mapping program completely. Graham smacked the side of it and it beeped back at him. "You've gotta be shitting me."

Up ahead the town church loomed over the neat houses that lined either side of the street. The community center was just across the street. Graham opted for the community center and pulled his old car into an empty spot. The car door slammed shut behind him, locking with a soft double beep.

No one was staring, no one would even think to be staring at him. It had been eight years. That didn't mean he couldn't feel eyes on him. The feeling pushed him forward faster and faster until he threw his body through the old double doors. The sudden entrance startled a teen girl wearing a black poncho. Graham noticed the scalloped edges under her arms, giving her arms a bat wing look.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

The girl nodded and hesitantly turned back to hanging strings of fake fall leaves around the announcement cork board. Papers in just about every color of the rainbow littered its surface. There were the usual offers for classes. Mrs. Rosenthall was still trying to push culture into the community by offering her sub par piano classes. Graham's mother had been swindled by the woman until Graham's first recital resulted in him poking at the keys haphazardly.

There were advertisements for yard sales and school plays, puppies needing good homes and a help wanted sign for the convenience store. Beneath all of the brightly colored paper was a faded and wrinkled white paper. The words 'remember them' caught his eye before he looked away.

"The memorial was in August," bat-girl told him.

"Yeah, I know. A whole two weeks remembering the Knotted Killer's victims and celebrating his arrest on August twenty-second." Graham scratched his forearm absently. The dark green sleeve of his sweater rode up a bit.

Bat-girl's eyes went wide. "Woah, cool tattoo," she whispered.

Graham smiled and slid the sleeve up further so she could get a better look. The tip of a dagger touched the base of his palm. It looked sharp even though it was two-dimensional. The thin blade ended halfway up his arm where it became twisting tree branches. They were bare except for two birds nestled on either side. A dove on the left and a blackbird on the right.

"What's it say?" The girl dragged one black painted nail down the edge of the blade where words had been looped into the line work.

"It says, the thing with feathers," he told her. Graham tugged his sleeve back down. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where the Stellar Inn is, would you?"

Bat-girl nodded and stepped outside with him. "You gotta take a right down there and then a left after two blocks. When you see the telescope on the roof, you're there."

"So close," Graham muttered, sending a quick glare at the spot he knew his GPS rested inside his truck. "Thanks kid."

She waved and scurried back inside.

Across the way, the church doors opened and a small group shuffled down the steps. At the front of the group was a young couple, baby giggling in its mother's arms. Something about them made his skin crawl. They were so happy.

It felt like someone was watching him again. A few of the older people from the group had stopped halfway down the stairs. They were definitely staring, and then would come the whispering. Next they'd hurry to their cars.

Graham beat them to it, sliding into the driver's seat. How long would it be before the entire town knew he was back? "Just one night Graham, that's it." His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

The telescope on the roof of the Stellar Inn was balanced precariously on the slanted roof. He expected it to fall any second and crush him. With that in mind, he hurried past and into the main lobby.

The young man behind the counter looked up briefly from his phone. "Can I help you?"

"I have a reservation, Graham Lewis," he said. The small bag of clothes and necessities on his bag pulled on his shoulder as he leaned against the desk. The rest of his things were locked up in the back seat of the truck. No need to drag everything inside for one night.

The man, probably in his first year of college, flipped through the reservation book spread open on the counter. "Two keys?" he asked.

"I have someone joining me," Graham nodded.

"Well they're not here yet." The two keys attached to gold star keychains thudded onto the counter in front of Graham. "Upstairs, room seven. Checkout is at ten tomorrow morning. Enjoy your stay."

"Oh, yeah, will do," Graham assured him. He was halfway up the stairs when his phone started to jingle cheerfully in his pocket. "You got Graham."

The voice on the other end was a bit garbled, other voices overlapping it. "Hey! I'm gonna be late, the bus broke down."

"How far away are you, Mike? I could just come grab you." Graham offered.

"Nah, we're still an hour out," Mike said. "But hey, Phoebe should be there soon so you won't be totally alone."

Graham breathed a sigh of relief. He'd planned hole up in his room until Mike showed up. Phoebe would drag him out for sure, but she'd also be enough of a distraction from the wandering eyes.

"And Spencer?"

"He said he'd meet us in the morning, he's staying with his parents for the night," Mike shouted into the phone. The voices surrounding him had gotten louder, accompanied by the sound of an engine squealing. "Look, I'll call you when I get in. Grab me something to eat if you go out."

The call ended abruptly, but that was Mike.

Room seven was just ahead. The big brass handle slid smoothly as he pushed down after turning the key. Inside were two neatly made beds, mints resting on the pillows. To the right, a smaller white door stood open, leading to a bathroom. Graham dropped his stuff on the bed farthest from the bathroom, his body following shortly after.

The bed sheets had an underlying smell of bleach beneath the overwhelming lavender. It twisted his stomach. All at once he could feel the closeness of the walls. Just outside they'd be waiting, watching his every move. Graham was back in town, the whispers would follow. He tried to squeeze his eyes closed even tighter until he could feel his skull straining against the skin.

He jumped out of bed and pulled open the window between the two beds. Cold air rushed in and over him. There was no one outside staring. It was silly of him to have thought otherwise. It had been seven years, they wouldn't remember.

Graham felt an ache in his stomach grow. A growl rippled through it and he grabbed his wallet from where he'd dropped it by his bag. Maybe he'd run and pick up food for everyone and be back before anyone even noticed he'd left.

There was a commotion downstairs, the sounds growing as he opened his door and stepped into the hallway. It looked like he wasn't going to have to wait for Phoebe after all.

"How do you lose an entire reservation?" Phoebe snapped, slamming her driver's license down on the oak counter between her and the receptionist Graham had dealt with earlier. "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"Maybe you didn't make a reservation, it happens," the man said.

Phoebe pulled out two folded and crumpled pieces of paper. She slapped them down alongside her license. "Confirmation email and initial reservation."

The man sighed and picked up the papers. "Give me a minute." He disappeared through a back door behind the counter.

Graham skipped down the last few steps and called out to Phoebe. "Should have known you'd be down here causing a fuss."

"Graham!" She launched herself, fully expecting him to catch her.

The tall brunette nearly knocked him off balance, but Graham was able to turn the momentum into a spin instead. He let her feet touch back down and hugged her tightly. "How've you been?"

Phoebe stepped back, keeping a hand on his arm. "I've been great. Right up until someone screwed up my room." Her eyebrows furrowed and she shot an angry glare at the door. "But besides that, yeah, great."

"Still dating that guy? The couch guy?"

"Interior decorator, and no," Phoebe laughed. The tight ponytail she'd secured her hair in swished as she shook her head. "Chris decided I was too adventurous for him. I decided he wasn't worth my time waiting for him to make a move." Her attention turned back to the receptionist as he came back through the door. "So?"

"There's no record for this month, but you did book a room two months from now," he slid the paper back, looking smug.

The words 'confirmation' and 'December' along with a traditionally formatted date were written in bold at the center of the page. There was no overlooking it.

"Dammit. That's what I get for letting Spencer book the room when he was thinking about staying with his parents anyway," Phoebe muttered. She looked up at the worker and sneered. "No need to look so smug, you were right, that's all there is to it. Is there another room?"

"Nope," the man practically sang.

Graham rolled his eyes and grabbed the useless email printouts from the counter. "Just stay in our room Phoebe, I'll make Mike sleep on the floor or something." He reached down and grabbed her two bigger bags. "But you're going to have to buy dinner."

"Good deal," Phoebe agreed eagerly. She followed him back up the narrow staircase and into the room. "Oh, Mike isn't here yet?"

"Bus got stuck," Graham answered. He dropped her bags down by his. "He should be here in a few hours."

The window was still open, chilling the room almost to the point of discomfort. Still in her warmer coat and hat, Phoebe was unfazed by the cold. She inspected the room, including the hard wood floors. "Mike isn't going to want to sleep on that."

"Then just share a bed with him or something," Graham suggested. "Unless, you're still in love with him?"

Phoebe made a sound similar to a strangled seagull. Her nose and cheeks flushed. "That's stupid."

"What? Mike's a cute guy, I can see why-" he was cut short by Phoebe grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the door.

"Aren't you hungry? I'm starving."