This was a description of my room when I was a teenager. I wrote it to illustrate a lesson on sensory language I was teaching my students.

The rectangular room stepped down from the kitchen.

There was a curtain-covered closet on one end, while a full-sized bed jutted out from the opposite wall.

The dark paneling was relieved only by the large window opposite the kitchen and the posters of rock stars thumb-tacked above the bed.

The sounds of Steppenwolf blared from the stereo next to the desk where the 15 year-old sat studying her geometry.

The smell of frying chicken wafted across the room from the kitchen where her mother was preparing supper.

The idea that she'd soon be enjoying the fruits of her mother's labor gave the teen the encouragement she needed to finish her homework quickly, so she could go set the table.