A faded sign creaks overhead, promising "THE ODDEST COLLECTION OF ODDITIES IN ALL OF OREGON!" The turquoise paint is peeling, the roof tiles askew. A plastic dinosaur head juts from the facade, its red eyes glinting in the light.

The gravel parking lot is empty save for a beat-up red El Diablo with a dented fender and a bumper sticker that reads "I BRAKE FOR GNOMES."

From inside, the muffled sound of a television playing a cheesy commercial filters through the screen door. Then, a crash. A muttered curse. The clatter of something metal hitting a wooden floor.

The screen door is unlatched. It swings slightly in the breeze, creaking on its hinges.