I’m currently writing a (fictional) scene about a flash mob taking over a bar in my neighborhood, and I just wrote this, and I’m really really proud of it. Don’t normally share works in progress but I’ll make an exception just this once.
The parking lot outside overlooked a quiet corner of Sellwood at this time of night; some light fog hung just above the telephone poles, tinted orange yellow by the street lights. And huddled in groups of five to ten or more were more bar patrons, talking to each other, smoking, some dancing or singing alone or with another, some sober, many not. A few more people were crossing the street diagonally from the off-brand convenience store with snacks, prompting an angry honk from a car driving west along Tacoma Street towards the bridge and the safety of the West Side.
The bar is real, but the off-market convenience store is now a 7-11, but since my story is set in 2007, I’m relying on memory.
Anyway, back to writing.