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All storefront remnants appear smashed and looted, all slivers of glass and twisted doorframes, coiled heaps of ugly metal commercial security shutters. Overturned retail gondola shelving, pedestals, stanchions and queue barrier posts scattered as if torn down by a hurricane.
You see some shopping trolleys, the protruding handles of wheeled luggage, now ripped and shredded; blue tarpaulins and collapsed tents, signs of habitation by homeless people - but it seems that even vagrants have since avoided this place, or been driven from it now altogether.
In a moment of clumsiness and awkward movement, Heather's foot encounters some warped fragment of metal.
There is an immensely loud, resonant clang.