The Empty Seat at the 4:00 AM Coffee Shop

Dear Delyara, There is a twenty-four-hour transport café near the depot where I take my break at 4:00 AM, sitting by a greasy window with a mug of chicory coffee that tastes like burnt wood. Tonight, a group of night-shift rail workers came in, covered in high-vis gear, laughing and slamming their palms onto the counter as they ordered food together. I sat in my corner with my uniform collar turned up, completely invisible to them, feeling an ache of total isolation that made my fingers shake. They have a crew; they have a shared language of exhaustion. I am entirely alone on my line, moving between empty buildings like a shadow that doesn't leave a trace.