pasillo

the pasillo was narrow and dark, with walls that seemed to close in around us.

she walked quietly down the pasillo, her footsteps echoing on the tiles.

at the end of the pasillo, a faint light flickered under the door.

the long pasillo stretched before them, disappearing into darkness.

he rushed through the pasillo, desperate to find an exit.

the pasillo was lined with portraits of past leaders.

sunlight filtered into the pasillo through the stained glass window.

the echo of our footsteps filled the empty pasillo.

she stood in the pasillo, waiting for her name to be called.

the old pasillo smelled of dust and forgotten memories.

someone was approaching through the pasillo, their shadow growing larger.

the worn carpet on the pasillo floor muffled their steps.

the hotel pasillo was decorated with fresh flowers and soft lighting.

we felt our way through the dark pasillo, hands against the cold walls.

the white walls of the pasillo reflected the fluorescent lights.

typewriters clicked from offices along the pasillo.

they walked together down the pasillo toward the exit.

after the concert, the pasillo filled with people looking for their cars.

the dark pasillo gave her the creeps as she walked alone.

row upon row of lockers lined the pasillo walls.