Steph expected a lot of things, but a stench that nearly knocks her on her ass is not one of them.

"Oh, ugh," she chokes out, covering her nose. It's stuffy and smells like a fridge that hasn't been cleaned out in forever. She supposes that might come from the fridge, door cracked open, and she bravely trudges forward to slam it shut. It doesn't help much, but it gives her some peace of mind that nothing is going to crawl out.

"It's like a tomb of rotten lunch meat."

She has no idea if the smell indicates a time frame or if the doors did indeed seal this place like a tomb.

And there's the poor microwave, scorched, and some long dried goop seeping out from under the door. Why did people always do that?

"Someone blew that thing up for the last time..."