The echo of my own footsteps on the concrete

Dear Delyara, It is 5:10 AM, and the loneliness of this night shift is so intense it feels like a physical coldness in my bones. I have spent the last twelve hours walking the empty corridors, checking locks, and watching security monitors. The only sound in this massive, sterile building is the steady, rhythmic echo of my own boots on the concrete floor. I am surrounded by millions of pounds of high-end real estate, yet I have never felt more utterly abandoned by the world. It is a strange, devastating irony that I am spending my youth guarding these beautiful, secure spaces for others, while my own soul is left to shiver out in the cold, completely disconnected from the warmth of human connection.