transcripted from paper found near ██ 42 13 N ███ 08 ██ W

I truly hope someone finds this letter, as I do not believe I'm going to survive here.
This place is horrible. Nothing here makes sense. The space here is seemingly infinite. To me it resembles some kind of office building, but at this point, there is no way to be sure.
I have been seeing things. Humanoid figures, mannequins, and other oddities. I fear for my life.
Across rooms I hear children screaming and crying, odd vaguely vocal sounds, snippets of late-night television.
To my loving wife,
If you come across this letter in a chance of pure luck, I just want you to know that no matter what happens, you are on my mind.
Steven, dated 3/18/67.