I'm finally parting ways with Xmas: a neurodivergent liberation story

Dear reader,

The young man living in the apartment opposite my hotel balcony—who doesn’t know I exist— peels spindly carrots in the dark at 2 am, while listening to English phrases on repeat.

I’ve concluded that he’s likely a chef, as sets of ‘whites’ continuously hang on a drying rack on his balcony and who else would cook dinner at this time, apart from…