The fog horns are sending out their plaintive bass moan over the bay as oil-slick waters slosh in slow ripples against the docks. Workers shuffle towards dim yellow lights, paper cups of coffee steaming in their calloused hands. Their voices are a low hum, almost as if the sound itself is buffeted by the fog. The ground is damp, reflecting the feeble glow of streetlights down the dim alley.
The smell of fish and seaweed cloy to the mist. A tap of footsteps echoes from the wooden flanks of the warehouses as the form of a young lady emerges from the darkness. Her high heels are black with a thin strap at the ankle. A strip of red silk dress peeks beneath her gabardine raincoat.
"Whaddya doin' here at this hour Jenny?" a voice calls from just outside the pool of light.
"I came to kill him, Johnny", she says. She simultaneously looks at and through me as she pulls a snub-nosed revolver from her pocket...
Go ahead, add a sentence or a paragraph. Let's see how long we can build the story!