An empty bowling alley, the polished wooden lanes reflecting the muted neon glow of holographic advertisements for obscure indie bands. The era feels like the early 2000s, with chunky CRT monitors still visible at the counter. The air is still and cool, a low energy hum emanating from the dormant machines, but the colorful, retro aesthetic imbues it with a faint, nostalgic warmth. A lone, stray bowling ball sits near the gutter.