A descriptive essay about "A Pool Hustler".

Smoke filled the room as I walked around the green felt. My right eye shut tight as my left eye squinted to a narrow slit in a last minute attempt to line up my shot. Sweat forming on my scalp as the body heat radiating from my head was trapped with my white UCLA baseball cap. I felt nervous. This was the most important shot of the game. I had to sink the eight ball. …

…the right corner pocket. If the cue ball went in then I would lose the game. My wide brown eyes were sealed on the white ball gliding across the smooth felt. I felt nervous for the second time this game. It was slowing down as under my breath I was whispering for it to stop. The walk home was bittersweet, as the blood slowly flowed from my nose into the corners of my upturned mouth.