The store building once held the lifeblood of the plant. Racks stacked high with spare parts, tools, and equipment, ensuring the machinery never stopped. The fluorescent tubes overhead, now dormant, once flickered to life with each shift, casting an even glow over the ordered chaos of a working storeroom.
Now, the only light spills in from the open doorway, cutting through the gloom like an afterthought. The mezzanine walkway looms above, its metal framework still sturdy but now lined with empty shelves, their purpose long since faded. A few scattered remnants—a barrel, a length of rubber sheeting that could have been offcuts from a conveyor belt—lie abandoned on the floor, the last traces of a supply chain that once kept this place running.
The silence is occasionally broken by a sharp bang as a loose sheet of corrugated metal slams against the building in the wind—an eerie, unpredictable sound familiar to anyone who’s ever set foot inside an abandoned structure.