I was sitting in the third row on the left side of the bus.
Someone left their math textbook and an Advent of Annihilation comic behind.
We crossed a parking lot towards an old brick building.
I scootered downhill towards the entrance.
Someone mentioned that the mahogany panelling gave the appearance of a pub.
We walked along the carpeted hallway of an art gallery.
I left the group and trudged through a field covered in knee-deep snow.
Someone threw a snowball.
We climbed up a snow-covered hill towards another parking lot.
I unlocked the passenger door of the white 1979 Chevrolet Impala.
