A bus at night, if you are fitting this around other people — for jet lag

The story, in full

Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used. There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. The bus stops and starts with a slow, heavy movement.

The city goes past below you, shopfronts and bus stops and people waiting for other buses. You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. The lights inside are the dim blue kind that buses use at night.

Notice your hips, wide and settled. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.

Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.

The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out.

Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Your ankles can go loose now.

Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.

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

Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.

The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. The heating comes through the floor and makes your feet warm.

Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Let your palms open if they were closed.

The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds.

Notice any tension that arrived while you weren't looking. If you're judging your performance, that's the same habit as judging everything else.

Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.

Let the next part go past without you. Just the weight.

Stay with the weight of your body. Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Nothing here needs following closely.

Almost nothing to do now. Let them. Let the room get slightly further away.

It is designed to fit around other people’s schedules.

That is the end of the story. Sleep is the next part, and it does not need instructions.

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