The night was cold and rainy, and the highway eerily still, save for the occasional car that zipped past the small, dilapidated roadside motel before disappearing back into the dark, moonless night. Inside the main office, a crippled old man sat hunched behind gnarled desk. His milky eyes were unfocused, and he sat utterly still. His ears strained for the sound of tires turning into the rocky parking lot. In the corner stood a large grandfather clock; its steady “tick-tick” a constant reminder of time wasting away. Outside, the bright neon lights announcing the motel’s vacancy began to sputter, and soon the clock chimed. But still the old man sat, listening to the constant buzz of the vacancy sign and patiently awaiting the arrival of his next guests. He didn’t have to wait long, for about twenty minutes later his hunched back straightened and his milky eyes were distracted by the headlights of an old Toyota as it turned into the parking lot. The crippled old man reached purposefully into his pocket and took out a pocket watch, while from outside the came the sound of slamming of car doors. Minutes later, rusty hinges squeaked and groaned as the front door was pried open by a tall, blue-eyed man.
“Hello? Anyone?” called the stranger.
The old man’s milky eyes moved up from his  pocket watch and focused toward the visitor.
“Ah yes,” he rasped quietly, “right on time.”
“Hello?” The voice of the newcomer was growing impatient, “Anyone here?”
“Just this way!” The old fellow’s voice sounded as rusty as the door hinges.
“Oh!” came an exclamation of surprise — this time in a woman’s musical voice.
“See Jamey? I told you it wasn’t abandoned!”
A small woman with curly strawberry-blonde hair and porcelain skin bounced into view, dragging an overstuffed suitcase along behind her. She was followed by a young man who was perhaps twice her size. He had dirty blonde hair and tan skin, his looks both complementing and contrasting those of the small woman.
“Hi, my name’s James and this here’s Maggie,” said the young man, a slight southern accent pulling at his vowels and his r’s. He reached a polite hand across the desk to the old man.
“Yes, I know,” muttered the crippled old fellow. He ignored the hand and instead looked past James to where Maggie stood.
  “Well aren’t you a two darling couple?” he wheezed.
Maggie beamed. 
“Why, thank you kindly, good sir!” she exclaimed. “We’re on our honeymoon you know. Yes it’s true, on our way t—”  she was cut off by her husband.
“I’m sorry,” he interjected, “But did I hear you say that you already knew who we were?”
“Aw Jamey, sweetheart, don't be silly!” Maggie exclaimed, “Of course he didn't say that!” she turned to the old man. “You’ll have to excuse my husband, he’s been drivin’ all night and we’re both as tired as a couple of overworked farm hands! Is there any chance you could fix us with a room for the night?” she leaned in and smiled prettily at the grouchy old fellow, who was already handing James a key. A slight smile bent his crooked lips, and his milky eyes seemed to glow as he looked at her.  
“You’ll be in room number 63, the last one left,” he purred, “enjoy your stay.”
James reached out an apprehensive hand and took the offered key before firmly grasping Maggie by the wrist and leading her out of the small room.
The old man listened to their footsteps falling away before getting up and quietly floating after them.
 
“Jamey, sweetheart, I cannot believe how rude you were to that old fellow back there!” exclaimed an astounded Maggie, practically running to keep up with her husband’s long strides as he made his way toward their room.
“I’m sorry Mags, but there was something about him — something in the way he looked at you — that threw me on edge.” he said by way of apology. “Listen, honey, I’m tired. Let’s find our room and get ourselves a good night’s sleep and then—”
“Shh!” Maggie exclaimed, cutting him off abruptly. “Did you see that?!”
“Mags, are you serious right now? See what?”
“That! Right there! Did you see that?” Maggie’s already pale skin was nearly white, and she was looking back towards the main office.
“Oh Maggie, what?”
“Oh nothin’. I thought I saw someone, but I’m probably just tired.”
“Well that would make sense, wouldn't it? This is a motel after all, they're bound to have other tenants stayin’ for the night!”
“Yes, but James, our car is the only one in the parking lot. See?” Maggie pointed a quivering finger to their parked car.
“Then it must have been that old man goin’ to bed.” James’s voice was firm and steady.
“Alright, you're probably right.” Maggie said, still looking slightly on edge. She leaned against her husband as he unlocked and opened the door to their room, and then followed him inside. The room was small, stuffy, and window-less. But the it was clean, and the bed was soft and comfortable. James plopped down on the soft mattress and Maggie slid under the covers beside him and the two were asleep in not time.

The old man floated down to room number 63, his milky eyes glowing in the dark. It was now nearing 1:00 am and the couple should be asleep by now. The buzzing of the vacancy sign followed him the whole way there. But this was the last room. This was the last couple, and then all the rooms would be filled and he could turn the sign off. He smiled to himself as he approached their room. Room 63. He could hear the steady beating of their hearts. Thump-thump, thump-thump. All the other hearts had stopped beating by now. But not these two.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a padlock and a key. He fit the lock over the handle, then turned the key. He listened until he heard the tumblers click into place before floating past all the other locked doors back to his small office. Now all the rooms were full, now he could finally turn off that buzzing “vacancy” sign. Now he had no reason to keep hotel running. Finally, he could rest in peace.