The aftermath of the late shift always feels heavier than the shift itself.
The lobby doors slide closed with a soft, final sound, sealing the night outside. The automatic lights dim to their lowest setting, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The air settles, thick with quiet. I stand behind the front desk longer than necessary, hands resting on the polished surface, listening to the low hum of the building returning to itself.
No voices. No footsteps. No movement that does not belong.
No one is there.
I check anyway.
I step out from behind the desk and glance toward the seating area. Empty. Chairs perfectly aligned, cushions undisturbed. The corridor to the elevators stretches long and still, its lights unwavering. I catch my reflection in the glass panels along the wall.
