Of course, there would not always be the perfect place for inspiration and writing atmosphere. Harry knew that. And there might not always be someone to help him fill in the details of the stories, but after some long, hard thinking, he’d realized the perfect person to talk to for the next story.

The museum was silent as he stepped in the door. It almost seemed deserted. Lights illuminated the various displays, but the rest of the place was dim, almost too dark, and entirely empty.

He stepped through the halls, reading the signs that directed him to the “Mystery” exhibits. His backpack somehow felt heavier on his shoulders in the silence, and he had to force himself not to stop and examine each space phenomenon that he passed.

The Mystery room was at the far end of the building, and when he reached it, a slightly stooped man’s form was silhouetted against the LED exhibit about the reversal zone. Harry didn’t need to ask who it was. He stepped up next to the man, without looking at him, and studied the exhibit in silence for a moment.

The man’s voice, when he spoke, was younger sounding than Harry had expected. “Harry Wallace, I presume.”

“Yes sir.” Harry turned to look at the quiet, steady face that was illuminated in the LED light. “Randall Stacey?”

Stacey nodded, turned to Harry, and shook his hand. “Have you been here before?”

Harry shook his head. Stacey turned back to the exhibit and nodded at it. “Not much information here. Only enough to tantalize customers with mystery. Keeps them coming.”

Harry crossed his arms, and watched the images that flashed across the screen, and he wondered if any of them were from his mother’s adventure.

“She was a remarkable young woman,” Stacey commented, as if reading Harry’s thoughts. “I didn’t know her well or long, though.”

“Can you tell me about what happened?” Harry asked, gesturing towards the display.

Stacey nodded, took a couple steps backwards, and sat on the bench just behind him. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” he said.

Harry slung his backpack off his shoulders, zipped it open, and took out his recorder. He turned it on, sat down, and set it between the two of them on the bench.

“Tell it from the beginning,” he invited. “I’ll ask questions if I have any.”

Stacey took a moment to stare at the opposite wall and gather his thoughts before beginning. “It was sudden… all the more sudden because it came after a long lull of almost nothing.”