The little boy sat on a swing in the hot Philadelphia sun, pumping his legs back and forth. He was waiting for his sister, who went off on a walk with her boyfriend and told him to stay on the swing.
"You stay here okay, Philly? John and I are going to walk around for awhile," she said, holding the hand of the dark-haired, brown-eyed boy. "We'll come back and get you in about twenty minutes."
Then... She just walked away. She left the 5-year-old alone, pumping his legs repeatedly. He lost track of time, and didn't care while he was having fun on his swing.
An hour passed. Then two. Finally, enough time passed that it finally got dark. The little boy started to get scared, so he started to walk home by himself.
"Sadie! Sadie! John!" he called, desperately. "John!"
As he roamed the Philadelphia streets, his tennis shoes slapping against the sidewalks, he kept calling and calling, but now through tears. "Sadie! John! Help!"
It was starting to get late. The boy got lost. Nowhere near where he was before.
Not even his swing.
Finally, Sadie and John came back to the swing, worried and screaming, "Philly! Philly!"
The 5-year-old didn't respond or come back.
John walked Sadie home and helped her explain how Philly got lost.
Philly was never found. Now, in the Philadelphia streets you can hear a distant, hollow, "Sadie... John... Help..." and the sound of tennis shoes slapping against a sidewalk. "Sadie... I need you... Help me... John..."