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 conveyors, each one humming faintly in memory. No one else around. I found my old tool kit under a bench, rusted but whole. When I picked up the wrench, it felt warm. Like someone had just used it. I didn’t know what I was doing there, but I knew I wasn’t supposed to leave. Not yet.