A library at closing time — a slow story for the end of the day, when you have been meaning to start — for waking too early

The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps. The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections. A book lies open on the next table, face down, which is technically not allowed.

There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back. The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it.

Let your shoulder blades spread out and drop. Let your palms open if they were closed.

Let your calves spread out and flatten. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.

The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows. Someone is pushing a trolley two rows away, and you can hear each wheel separately.

Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it. Feel the weight of your head on the pillow.

Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let the mattress take all of it.

Everything here will still be here tomorrow. The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing.

Let your thumbs rest where they landed. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.

The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you. The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table.

Let your forearms get heavy and warm. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.

If you're judging your performance, that's the same habit as judging everything else. Notice if you've been frowning at your own thoughts.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your lower back sink down into the mattress.

You can stop listening properly. The words can start to blur now.

Let your breathing do the rest. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. Let them.

Let the dark be ordinary. Nothing needs deciding tonight. Just the dark.

You have been meaning to start. This is the least intimidating way in.

No more sentences. Just the weight of you in the bed.