The room is such a temperature that you can only notice it by thinking about it; a sort of warm. On one wall is a bookshelf; on the one perpendicular to that, a couch. The room is small; on the floor is a Turkish rug.
The forest is bright. It is clear, and the trees are fairly widely spaced. The trees are mostly pines. It is on a hill, overlooking more forest.
The path is a sort of vague space that is only marginally more smooth and wider than the surrounding forest. It is wide, and it is clear that it is often used. It is easy to walk leisurely upon it.
It is a stream, brackish and slow. In some places it is almost impossible to discern movement at all.
It is a ceramic mug, with a wide handle, quite large, tan in color, glazed, but with an unfinished bottom.
It is a small key, somewhat cheap. Perhaps it is to a bike lock.