The hospital was empty and the beds were still warm

I'm walking the corridors at 3 a.m. and every room is empty — but every bed is still warm, shaped like a body just got up. I keep checking vitals on patients who aren't there, writing notes that disappear the second I finish them. A nurse I used to work with passes me in the hall and says 'you can let go now' — not mean, just tired, the way we say it to families. Then I wake up and the phone is ringing, the way it always rings.