“The only residents remaining in the small town of Miners Hill are spirits.” The rumpled man stifled a giggle. He was an entertaining reenactor- the tour company had done a superb job picking him.
Seated at four rickety tables- possibly from the barroom’s glory days- you could still smell lingering cigar smoke as he had invited us into the saloon. The player piano pecking out “Darlin’ Nellie Gray” added to the ambiance of the tour.
The saloon-doors swung open and the young lady who welcomed us off the bus entered. “I’m so glad you found your way into Frank’s.”
“We’ll start our tour with a picture of this saloon’s original owner.”
We sat speechless.
Written for Monday’s Finish That Story. Requirements: Using the photo prompt and the provided first sentence, tell a story of only 100-150 words.