Tucked behind a row of boarded-up shops, the old bowling center waits in the dark. Its neon sign flickers once in a while, as if trying to remember how it used to glow. Inside, the lanes are coated in dust, but the pins still stand patiently at the end, ready for players who will never come. Faded scorecards lie scattered on the counters, whispering names no one recalls. Sometimes, on stormy nights, passersby say they hear the echo of a perfect strike rolling down the empty lanes a final game that never ends.

Bowling Centre