Sleep story · warm, home
A kitchen late at night — a slow story for the end of the day, if you have done this a hundred times — 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.
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. Your chair is pulled out slightly, the way you left it. The fridge motor stops, and the room gets even quieter.
The kitchen is warm, and the small light over the hob is the only one on. There is a bowl of fruit nobody has touched since Tuesday. A plate dries on the rack with a slow drip every so often.
Let your ribs stop working so hard. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.
Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.
The clock on the oven shows a time that feels later than it is. Someone upstairs turns over, and the ceiling creaks once.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop.
If your body wants to move, let it move, then come back. If you feel restless, that's a feeling, not a failure.
Let your calves spread out and flatten. Your ankles can go loose now.
Just the dark. Leave it there.
Nothing here needs following closely. Stay with the weight of your body. Stay.
If you have done this a hundred times, change one small thing tonight.
The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.
12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for warm, home.
If this story does not settle you, try A lighthouse at the end of a long day (a sleep story), if you have five quiet minutes — for a racing mind, A field under snow, when the day has been loud — for jet lag or The house after everyone is asleep, if you are tired of apps — for winding down.