120: Nothing

Everything was covered in a fine red dust.  A single solitary bulb shone on the porch.  How it was powered or why it was still lit was probably a mystery that would need to eventually solved.  Sunlight had not graced the parched land for a long, long time.  What little light the bulb did produce barely spilled off of the porch, most of the ground in front of the building was held in permanent darkness.  Three of the four steps were very worn, sagging.  The fourth step, which was actually second from the top, was disconnected on one-side, collapsed under the weight of someone, probably leaving the place in a hurry.  But even that would have been a long, long time ago.  The railing, too, was broken, as were all the windows.  The door stood open, the screen door, hung at an angle, its lower hinge still connected, its screen mostly detached and folded over onto itself.  A sign on a pole extending off the front of the building hung perfectly still.  There was no wind to speak of.  The sign itself was also a mystery, the paint had been stripped off decades ago, there was no way to tell what it said, though from the looks of the building and its location, it must have been a gathering place for a community that no longer existed.  This wasn't a place where they would be allowed to stay very long, it wasn't safe.  They turned the vehicle around and headed back the way they had come.