Sleep story: a kitchen late at night, when the house is busy — for waking too early

The story, in full

A plate dries on the rack with a slow drip every so often. There is no reason to be awake, and no reason to move either. The tea towel is folded over the rail, still slightly damp.

There is a bowl of fruit nobody has touched since Tuesday. Someone upstairs turns over, and the ceiling creaks once. The tiles under your feet are cold in one corner and warm in another.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your calves spread out and flatten.

Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let your ribs stop working so hard.

The fridge motor stops, and the room gets even quieter. Your chair is pulled out slightly, the way you left it.

Let your palms open if they were closed. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.

Notice if you're waiting for something to happen. Nothing is scheduled. If nothing much is happening, that's not a problem. Nothing much is often the point.

Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Let your hands be completely still.

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

Let each breath be a little smaller than the last. Softer. You can stop listening properly.

It works with other people in the house. You do not need silence.

Let everything get quiet, including this.

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