The wind came up from the West, rattling the lone, remaining shutter hanging on rusted hinges. Everything of metal on this place seemed to be rusted to within a second of falling apart completely. Nails had worked their way slowly out of the wood that covered the spare frame, from the damp. Sudden shrinking and swelling during the rainy season was not uncommon, but never had I seen a building in such disrepair.

‘Building.’ I say it was a building. More like a two by four frame with some cheap paneling thrown on. An attempt to keep out the elements. It had been years since the plywood and shingles had done its job. Hard to tell though, out here. The way the thing was held together looked like a child may have constructed it, like a tree house, built on the ground due to a severe lack of vegetation. If it had been painted in the past, no evidence remained.

I walked along the south-facing side, where I thought I may have seen a door.