The mansion on the hill is in ruins, its roof partially collapsed.
The covered bridge still stands, but is ancient, potentially unsafe.
The windows of the ware house are broken, the building open to the air, the "no trespassing" sign a feeble effort to deter the curious.
The pumps in front of the gasoline station stand as sentries in a war long ended.
And the tractor stands idle in the field of wheat. All around, the sand creeps in. Entropy is winning.
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