Maize

I'm not a morning person. The people I usually look for generally aren't either. Late nights mean sleeping in. But, this place has kept me on edge.

I've been up at dawn every morning since I arrived, until now. I woke up even earlier today, chased from my bed by the Great Pumpkin. It's easy to joke about, but I don't remember the last nightmare like that I've had. The more disturbing part is knowing it wasn't just a dream.

I went down the road and picked up some coffee and donuts. Bringing them back, I entered the motel office.

The reception was divided into two areas by a counter. On the customer side, the smaller of the two, was very little. An old, sagging loveseat that was threadbare and uninviting, and a dusty pot plant that might be artificial. On the other side of the counter was a recliner, a television, and a radio. The radio looked pretty modern, but otherwise the space appeared like an old bachelor's run down living room, which in a way it was.

There was a newspaper folded on the seat of the recliner, and some books of crossword puzzles stacked on the coffee table. The radio and TV were silent, and Ray himself was nowhere to be seen.

I set the coffee and donuts on the counter and took a few moments to look around, from the customer side of the room. I'd wait a bit before ringing the bell.

Ray stomped in through the door at the back. He was wearing a suit that looked about as old as Marlowe. He muttered to himself, tying his tie, appearing to be looking for something. His shoes were shined until they were almost reflective, but they also looked old. They looked stiff and rarely worn.

Glancing up, Ray glowered at his guest, “right, room five,” he didn’t look particularly happy to see you, “what’d’ya need?”

"I wanted to thank you, for your hospitality." I set a cup of coffee in front of him and slid the donuts over. "I didn't know how you took your coffee."

“Hospitality?” the older man grunted, “you pay to stay.” Ray eyed the coffee and doughnuts, “black’s fine.”

"It's still appreciated." I shrugged. "I've been on the road enough to know how easily good service can be taken for granted. I imagine you weren't expecting so many guests this week."

“Right,” he grunted again, distracted. He moved a book and picked up the wallet beneath. “Do you need something? I don’t want to be late.”

"I'd like to learn more about the town, to be honest. But, I don't want to keep you from morning worship." I gave an apologetic nod. "I'll let you be."

“Nothing to learn,” the dour man grumbled, tucking his wallet into his pocket and fishing a set of keys out from under the counter. “Can’t imagine why you’re still here.”