Descriptive

The doors opened to the dusty saloon, the smell of liquor grasping every breath where the sharp edge of his hat lingered over the caterpillars he called his eyebrows;his eyes cringed as he stared off in the distance at the gleaming sun.His nose straight as a bone; a centimeter away from meeting the grimace of a smile he held on his face. His shirt clung to his shoulders as cold sweat dripped down his body,the pistols occupying his hands ready to fire on command.The ball of fire in the distance we call the sun was setting so beautifully.It was a typical scene every cowboy dreams of. Clint's jeans were tore around the edges,the responsibility for the slight damages was a scuffle earlier that day."There was bruises on the other guy,he was bloody to the bone" Clint said."However he was the one came out the real winner."