The bell over the door chimed.

I ordered a large black coffee from a teenager in a green apron.

I paid with a five-dollar bill.

I took the paper cup to a booth in the back corner.

The drone of old window air conditioners was loud enough to drown out the highway traffic outside.

I opened my faded blue folder.

I spread out the injunction drafts Arthur had printed for me.

The legal wording was unbelievably dense.