I eat dinner in the hospital cafeteria after my shift ends

Dear Delyara, I am a surgeon and live alone. My colleagues think I stay late because I am dedicated. The truth is, I eat dinner in the hospital cafeteria every night because I cannot bear going home while people are still awake elsewhere. I finish operating, change clothes, then sit near the window with whatever food remains. Cleaners know my order. Security guards wave. Nobody knows I have already clocked out. At home, there is no one waiting, no pet, no neighbour I know well enough to knock on. I was married once. The marriage ended because work always came first. I told myself I preferred solitude. Perhaps I did when solitude was chosen around a busy life. Now colleagues my age are retiring, children I never had are becoming adults in other people’s photographs, and the hospital has become both workplace and social life because it is the only building where someone notices if I fail to arrive. Tonight, the cafeteria closed early for maintenance. I drove home at six and sat in the car until nine. I could see light in my own windows from the timer I installed to make the house look occupied.