Some times, working the 0215hrs shift is like being a fairy godmother, agony aunt, and companion all at once… while juggling shelving, printing, scanning, document delivery, and manning the reception desk.

People seem exceptionally grateful and polite when we are able to help them along with the very little things, like emergency stationery, working the University’s complex online system to submit an assignment, or the eleventh-hour book searches.

People seem exceptionally open to sharing dramatic life stories with familiar strangers they only know by face, as if merely seeking some verbal reverb of thoughts and opinions they already own and feel convicted of.

People seem exceptionally relieved to see another waking being in their presence, one that personalizes responses and interacts with them out of choice and will, unlike the screens of the electronic devices they labour all night on.

But then again, I probably am romanticizing the night.

I always tell my 0400hrs pals that we fetishize the night and each other. After all, 0400hrs is a lonesome hour to be alone and awake.