A caravan by the sea, when you are at home and cannot settle — for waking too early

The story, in full

The sea is about fifty metres away, over a bank of shingle. The bed folds out of the seating area and takes up most of the floor. There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern.

You can hear the shingle moving as the waves pull back. The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years. A clock on the wall ticks with a slight rattle on every second.

Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth.

The whole caravan smells of salt, gas and clean bedding. The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds.

Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Feel your cheeks let go.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.

Everything you need is within two metres of where you are lying. The curtains are thin, and the moon makes a pale rectangle on the floor.

Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Notice how much of you has already stopped moving.

The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts. There is a torch by the door in case you need to walk to the toilets in the night.

Your chest can be still now. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.

The wind pushes against the side of the caravan in long, slow gusts. There is a gas ring, a kettle, and two cups, one of which is a different pattern.

Your ankles can go loose now. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.

The caravan rocks very slightly in the wind, which is more comforting than it sounds. The window over the sink has a small crack in the corner that has been there for years.

If you're thinking about the next thing on your list, that list will still be there. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.

Let your toes stop holding on to anything. Let the mattress take all of it.

Softer. Let the dark be ordinary.

Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Almost nothing to do now. Let it all get further away.

Stay with the weight of your body. You can stop listening properly. The words can start to blur now.

Being at home and unable to settle is a very specific problem.

Let everything get quiet, including this.

21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for sea, simple.