Sentence Sunday

This is mostly cross-posted from Fangs, Fur, & Fey.

This week's Sentence Sunday was to pick a paragraph that reflects your feelings for a setting you loved.

This is from a non-fiction piece titled "Things I do not Think About", but I want to incorporate many of the sensory details from this piece into my YA WIP, No Leaf Clover.

The second thing I do not think about as I bow is the rectangular room that we are in. I do not think about the smell of sweat and sweating bodies that is soaked into the walls and floor, or that the smell no longer bothers me. Except on test days, like today. This room has been crammed with people for four hours, with large men and other martial artists pushing our bodies past our limit, sweating profusely, and adding to the ambient smell of sweat in the room. I do not think about the first time I entered the tae kwon do building, that the more stairs I climbed, the stronger the stench of sweat became, until I entered the room at the top where the stench was so unbearable I thought I’d never be able to return.

I like this because this includes my very first impression of tae kwon do, and I really thought I wouldn't be able to go back. But I went back, and the more I did, the less the smell bothered me. Anyway, I really like this because tae kwon do had such a huge impact on my life when I was in high school. And even though I'm not in tae kwon do now, I hope that by writing about it, I'll be able to share my good memories with other people.

Also, the location and many of the students have changed since I went to tae kwon do in high school, but by writing about it, I can always go back to the way things were.

Sentance Sunday - Kitsune, chapter 2, page 2

Here's an excerpt from page 2 of Kitsune, Chapter 2: Followed.

Background: After kicking an old friend out of her hotel room, Sombra Alara learns that someone is following her, and she's not one for sticking around.

Well, here it is.

I painted the stylized black and red lines of a butterfly on my face--my mask--then wrapped it in an illusion. Only those who could see through illusions would be able to see it, and I hadn’t met anyone like that.

Needing a disguise, I pulled the fishnet stockings, the micromini, and the sheer top from my bag and changed. As I zipped my boots, they lengthened to my thighs. I illusioned my long red and black-tipped hair to blonde and emphasized my Caucasoid features over my Mongoloid ones and changed my eyes to violet. Lastly, I picked up my bag, which now looked like a tiny purse and was out the door.

As I passed the front desk, the elderly receptionist looked up at me. I winked and stopped to caress his cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth. If anyone asked about me, he wasn’t telling. It would ruin his chances of me ever doing that again. I didn’t let it show that the thought of doing any of the things I promised was beyond disgusting.