A bus at night, when you are short on time — for a night when you do not want to think

The story, in full

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. The driver takes the corners slowly, as if the bus were full.

You do not have to get off for another twenty minutes. There is a long stretch of road ahead with nothing on it. A streetlight passes across the ceiling every few seconds.

Your ankles can go loose now. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.

Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.

There are four other people downstairs and nobody up here. Outside, someone is walking a dog that does not want to be out.

Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be. Let your ribs stop working so hard.

Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Let the pillow take the whole weight of your head.

You are on the top deck of the last bus, in the front seat, with the whole window to yourself. Your ticket is on the seat beside you, already used.

If you're distracted by a sound, let the sound be the object for a moment. If your mind is quiet, don't grab at it. Quiet comes and goes too.

Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Let your forehead go cool and smooth.

They will find their own way out. Stay with the weight of your body.

Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Softer. Let your breathing do the rest.

Pick this one when you are short on time.

Let this be the last thing you listen to.

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