The man walked into his hotel room and took off his pack, tossing it lightly into a far corner. He sauntered over to a desk were a simple brown leather-bound book lay. Picking up a nearby pen, he opened the book to the nearest blank page, and began to write.
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Personal Log #347
May 5th, 2013
Wow, it’s been about a week since I’ve written in this thing, but I suppose better late than never. My stay with the Swiss is nearly at an end. In a couple of days, I board a plane headed to Amsterdam, and who knows how long I'll be staying there for. Well, probably as long as I feel like. As usual, right? Maybe I should spend tomorrow taking in the sights here one last time. Wouldn't want to leave without taking just a few more pictures, after all.
Man, I almost can’t believe that it’s been nearly eleven years since I started this... journey, for lack of a better word. Left home at 18 and have been traveling the world ever since. It’s also hard to believe it’s been over three years since Cass Damn it all, why do I keep thinking about this? I know she wouldn’t have wanted me to dwell on her forever. It’s just so hard to stop thinking about how fast it all went downhill, or how I could've should've might have been able prevent it. Even though I knew from the start what the outcome would be and shit, I'm rambling again.
I’ve got to stop. It’s getting late, and this entry is becoming about days I'd much rather leave behind. I should probably get some sleep. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a long day.
End of Entry
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The next day, the man awoke and walked over to the corner of his hotel room where a bright red shoulder sling backpack, containing his journals, camera, and other personal effects, rested. He took stock of his items one more time before going over to the dresser where his wallet, phone, and a silver Dan Wesson .357 Magnum revolver lay undisturbed, along with some extra ammo for said weapon.
The man put the ammo in his pack and holstered the gun at his hip. He rarely used it, preferring to use his words, or if necessary, his fists to resolve problematic situations, but he’s always thought it better to have it than not.
Finally, he pocketed his phone and wallet and walked towards the door, but stopped mid-stride. “Hmmm, I can’t shake the feeling I’m forgetting something.” He muttered to himself. “...Eh, it’s probably nothing too important.” With that, he left his hotel room. Unbeknownst to him, he would not be returning for a long, long time.