Setting
The thud of heavy glass against polished wood. Voices, laughter, music. The push of bodies, too close in any other place, but acceptable here where booted feet rest on metal rails and high heels click on the wide plank floor. Twenty years ago, the smell of smoke would have hung in the air, insinuating itself into clothes and hair. Today, there’s only the faintest trace carried in when the door opens to admit a rush of cold air and the people who’d braved the bitter wind to grab a couple of drags. The clack of a ball, the roll of resin on felt. I turn away, not bothering to wait for the outcome.
Where am I? Want to guess? Go for it.
Want to try your hand at creating a setting and atmosphere without actually stating where you are? Go for that, too. I’d love to read it.