First time I went past the propped door instead of just photographing it from the lot was three weeks into watching it prop itself, and I only went in because it was propped two nights running, which breaks the rule I use for stop four, an even number of consecutive nights doesnt happen by itself on a route this short. somebody has to be resetting the door back to closed by hand or it would just stay however the wind or the latch wants it to sit, and it had gone closed-closed-open-open, which is not what wind does. wind doesnt count anything.

Inside is a corridor, maybe forty feet, unlit past the first ten, and the smell is the thing nobody photographs, cold metal and something like a pool filter, chlorine adjacent but not quite. I have documented plenty of loading corridors on this route, same as the ones off the white truck route, and most of them are exactly what they look like, storage, a mop sink, somebodys forgotten jacket on a hook for eleven months. this one has the box. first visit I didnt even stop for it, I clocked it the way you clock a fire extinguisher, present, accounted for, not the reason youre standing there. it took two more visits before I understood the box was the reason I kept coming back to a corridor that otherwise has nothing in it a normal person would bother walking forty feet for.