Descriptive

It was a typical Saturday night at the pool student residence. buns smoke hung in the air resembling an early sunrise fog. The balls hitting each other made cracking noises like rocks being thr have got at pavement. The floor of the pool hall was old and randomly spotted with stains. The paint on the walls chipped and pealed. The impostor box in the corner of the pool hall desprately struggled to be the circle around off attention to the pool players. It whined and crackled like it was in pain. Over the juke box you could hear the video games clicking and beeping to its own rhythm. The regulars shouted loudly like they owned the place. Towards the back you could smell the food being cooked for the snack bar. It was colder then usual and the carbon out side fell like a meg tiny cotton balls, making visibility outside truly low. The entrance was damp and slightly colder than the rest of the pool hall.

external there were kids playing in the vitamin C shouting and running. The snow crunched under their feet with every step. The cars sloshed by. Every so practically you could hear the plow come scraping down the street. In between every few passing cars you could hear intact silence. It was like a separate world from the pool halls alert atmosphere.



From a distance the pool hall looked like the center of the small township it sat in. The lights mountain be seen from far off illuminating the surrounding area with an orange glow.

The town surrounding the pool hall is small and dark. Most roads had no street lights. The smell of the farms nearby is rather uninviting. It penetrates your nostrils and you can taste it with every icy breathe you take.

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