The smell of a clean ICU at dawn

I just finished the 06:30 handoff. The unit’s quiet, the beds are empty except for the ones we’re holding, and the air smells like lemon disinfectant and old linoleum. It’s not sterile—never is—but it’s clean in that way that only comes after someone’s wiped down every surface with care. I stood by the nurses’ station for a minute, breathing it in. That moment before the first coffee, before the chaos starts. Feels like the world reset.