A bus at night, if you are doing this in the middle of the day — for a racing mind

The story, in full

There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement.

A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds. 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.

Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.

Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.

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.

Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Let your ribs stop working so hard.

Notice if your attention is in the future. Bring it back to the room. Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill.

Your elbows can stop being hinges for now. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.

Let the quiet be boring. Nothing here needs following closely.

Just the dark. You do not have to count them. Just the weight.

Midday is an underrated time for this.

The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.

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