It was a typical Saturday night at the pool hall. Cigarette smoke hung in the air like an early morning fog. The balls hitting each other made cracking noises like rocks being thrown at pavement. The floor of the pool hall was old and randomly spotted with stains. The paint on the walls chipped and pealed. The juke box in the corner of the pool hall desprately struggled to be the center 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 snow out side fell like a million tiny cotton balls, making visibility outside very low.
The entrance was damp and slightly colder than the rest of the pool hall.
Outside there were kids playing in the snow shouting and running. The snow crunched under their feet with every step. The cars sloshed by. Every so often you could hear the plow come scraping down the street. In between every few passing cars you could hear total silence. It was like a separate world from the pool halls busy atmosphere. From a distance the pool hall looked like the center of the small town it sat in. The lights can 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.