You are standing in the lobby of what might have once been an exclusive apartment building. The stale air is redolent with the mingled aromas of old chinese food and cat piss. The walls are dingy, paint faded to a dirty grey, rusty stains on the cracked plaster. Someone has ornamented the walls here and there with words scrawled in thick black marker, but the light emitted by the single bulb hanging from the watermarked ceiling is too dim for you to decipher the letters. The grungy white tile floor of the lobby is mostly covered by a filthy crimson carpet, dotted with cigarette burns and unpleasant stains, curling up at the edges where it doesn't quite meet the walls.

The carpet stretches out unevenly to the east, disappearing into the gloom of a narrow hallway. Formerly grand double doors hang unevenly on their hinges. It looks like someone has arranged a bunch of debris into some kind of dwelling to the south. You see Tenant Directory here.