more from the road

She and Patrick arrived in the driving rain. the wipers could not keep up as the rain poured from the heavens in large sheets. water was coming in everywhere into the old truck. from around the doors and through the windshield seal, running in ribbons down the inside of the glass dripping off of the dash only to pool on the rusty floor then finding its way to holes and back out on to the road. out of the rain storm they saw an oasis of light, a shining neon beacon of safty in the night. they pulled in the parking lot and parked, looked at each other and ducked out into the rain. they came out of the rain into the motel office. a man shuffled out from a back room, lit on by the light of a television. he was short, squat and balding. his once white undershirt now grey and stained from years of washing his own clothes and spilling his food while he ate. he wasn't there to make money, he was there because there was no where else to go in this town. he had worked for the motel since he graduated high school, just for the summer, but he never made it away. now years later he was not just the night shift manager, but he was the manager, and maintenance man. the exposed skin spilling from his shirt had a greasy sheen that matched his greasy hair, what little was left. he didn't speak to the them when they approached the counter, he just stood there with a blank expression, waiting for the ritual to continue so that he might get back to more important things. like watching sports and drinking his last beer for the night. Patrick asked for a room and the man flatly replied, 35 dollars while sliding a check-in card towards them. Patrick filled out a the card while the man fumbled to find a key and then handed him the money. almost as an afterthought the man gestured over Patrick and the girl's shoulders and grunted, second building on the left, check out is at 12.