A bus at night — a slow story for the end of the day, when the day has been loud — for winding down

There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.

The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used.

Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.

Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.

You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out.

Let your palms open if they were closed. Let the mattress take all of it.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.

You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it.

Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.

The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your calves spread out and flatten.

Notice if you've been frowning at your own thoughts. If you're counting the minutes, that's fine. Count them and come back.

Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.

Stay with the weight of your body. Almost nothing to do now.

Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Just the weight.

The words can start to blur now. Let the room get slightly further away. Let your breathing do the rest.

For days that were loud from the moment they started.

Let the words go now, and take the quiet with you.