You walk by the trailers and shipping containers of the dreary lot to a set of glass double doors, which seem to be an office entrance. Surprisingly, it’s unlocked, and you go inside. The vestibule had one of those heaters that blows warm air on the threshold which already starts to warm you up. It’s clean, well-lit, and warm. Corporate-sounding music is playing despite the room being empty. This little lobby has a deserted receptionist’s desk with plastic plants on the countertop, some waiting room chairs, and a few doors branching off it.
The door marked “Offices” is locked. The door marked “Break Room” isn’t, but the light switch doesn’t work. From the dim glow of the two empty vending machines along the far wall, all the tables and chairs are pushed to one side and stacked up on top of each other. Finally, there’s a simple bathroom, a locked door to the main warehouse area, and two smaller unmarked doors.
Behind one of the unmarked doors, there’s a small, very dusty room with a simple bed, a bedside stand, and a heavy wire shelf with a few mundane commercial items like coffee filters, paper cups, and empty tape dispensers. All the furniture looks like it’s from a cheaper hotel, except for the shelf, which could be from an industrial kitchen or storeroom. The other door reveals an identical room. Maybe they were layover rooms for truckers? Either way, they didn’t seem to have been touched for a while.
Back in the lobby, the receptionist’s desk is still deserted. There’s barely anything on the desk except for a highlighter, a few pens, and a disconnected corporate phone with the LCD screen dark.
You open the door and take a look back outside with the cold wind blowing in. Out towards the distant edge of the lot, the trucks do their automated maneuvers and flash their warning lights, signaling their moves to no one. You had expected there to be someone here to ask for a ride, or for directions, or just for reassurance that you weren’t completely alone.
The rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful.