A hotel room somewhere — a slow story for the end of the day, when you are cold and want to be warm — for the hours after a late shift

The story, in full

The curtains are heavy and close properly, which is rarer than it should be. The pillow is slightly too soft, and you fold it in half, which fixes it. Your case is open on the luggage rack, half unpacked.

The air conditioning makes a low sound that you will stop noticing within a minute. There is a small card on the desk with the breakfast times on it, which do not matter tonight. The bathroom light is off, and the fan has finally stopped.

Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.

Your ankles can go loose now. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.

A tram goes past below, and you hear it before you see it. The room is on the fourth floor, and the window looks out onto a street with one lit shop.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Feel your cheeks let go.

Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let your calves spread out and flatten.

The bed has been turned down, and the sheets are cool on the side you have not been lying on. Nobody in this city knows where you are, and that is restful.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Your chest can be still now.

The carpet is the colour of weak coffee and absorbs every sound. There is a bottle of water on the bedside table with the cap already loosened.

Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

There is a small card on the desk with the breakfast times on it, which do not matter tonight. The bed has been turned down, and the sheets are cool on the side you have not been lying on.

Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your ribs stop working so hard.

There is a bottle of water on the bedside table with the cap already loosened. The pillow is slightly too soft, and you fold it in half, which fixes it.

If you're sleepy, sit up a little. Or let the sleepiness be there. If you've lost track of where we were, you haven't lost anything important.

Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.

Let the quiet be boring. Just the weight.

Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Slower now. Stay with the weight of your body.

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

Get a blanket first. Being cold defeats the point.

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

21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for travel, anonymous.