A bus at night — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are somewhere noisy — for a restless night

The story, in full

Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used.

A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night.

Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.

The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Your chest can be still now.

Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.

The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement.

Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.

You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.

Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here.

Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.

The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds.

If you're judging your performance, that's the same habit as judging everything else. Notice the exact moment your attention left. You probably won't catch it. That's normal.

Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.

Let it all get further away. Almost nothing to do now.

They will find their own way out. Stay with the weight of your body. Let the room get slightly further away.

Stay. Let your breathing do the rest. Softer.

Noise is fine. You are not trying to hear anything subtle.

The end. Sleep well.

21 paragraphs, roughly 3 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.