Sleep story · warm, home

A kitchen late at night (a sleep story), when you have more time than usual — for the hours after a late shift

One small light on, a cooling cup of tea, and the rest of the house dark.

Lights off. Press begin and let the story read itself to you, at the pace of sleep.

Read it myself

Screen on or off — we suggest dimming it, or simply closing your eyes after the first paragraph.

The story, in full

There is no reason to be awake, and no reason to move either. There is a bowl of fruit nobody has touched since Tuesday. The fridge motor stops, and the room gets even quieter.

The tiles under your feet are cold in one corner and warm in another. Through the window you can see the back garden, which is doing nothing at all. The kitchen is warm, and the small light over the hob is the only one on.

Let the mattress take all of it. Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them.

Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Feel your cheeks let go.

Someone upstairs turns over, and the ceiling creaks once. There is a cup of tea beside you that has gone past drinking temperature.

Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your thumbs rest where they landed.

Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Your chest can be still now.

The clock on the oven shows a time that feels later than it is. The tea towel is folded over the rail, still slightly damp.

If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you. Notice the difference between a thought and the space around it.

Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy. Let the back of your neck lengthen out.

Stay with the weight of your body. Let them.

Just the weight. Let the room get slightly further away. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer.

This is the longer version, for a day with some slack in it.

The end. Sleep well.

14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, home.