A bus at night — a slow story for the end of the day, when you want to be left alone — for the hours after a late shift

The story, in full

A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used. 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. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night.

Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.

Your ankles can go loose now. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.

Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out. The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm.

Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be.

Notice if you've been frowning at your own thoughts. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.

Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.

Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Slower.

They will find their own way out. Just the dark. Let your breathing do the rest.

Nothing here asks anything of you socially.

There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.