Rooms [TEXT]

His name is Charles Erwin, you’re pretty sure. Or, at least, it was, at some point in his life. He drove the bus route on Wednesdays. Or maybe he was that sales clerk at Wal-Mart. Or maybe he just has one of those faces.

Either way, that face is now grinning at you, his devilish teeth shining somehow in the insufficient light. As he sits down, he pulls out a suitcase, and sits it down in front of you. His eyes quiver with fire as he speaks.

“So, what do you say? Is it a deal?”