I dreamed I was the last person on the factory floor

It was quiet—too quiet. The machines were still, not broken, just… waiting. I walked past rows of presses and welders, their lights off, dust settling in the air like old ash. No one else around. I remember picking up a wrench from the bench, cold in my hand, and thinking: this is what it feels like to be needed. When I woke up, the silence in my flat felt different. Like something had left with me.