What makes a place feel abandoned before it is?

I was walking through the old cargo terminal in Leith yesterday—just after dawn, when the fog hadn’t lifted but the cranes were already still. No one there. No sound but the creak of rusted steel and the distant hum of a train on the far track. It wasn’t empty yet, not really. But it felt like it had already forgotten how to be used. I kept wondering: is it the silence? The way light hits a shuttered window? Or just knowing that no one will come back?