Sleep story: a library at closing time, when you are at home and cannot settle — for winding down

The story, in full

There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back. Everything here will still be here tomorrow. Your own book is heavy in your hands, and you have stopped reading it.

The windows are dark enough now to reflect the room back at you. The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows. The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections.

Let your thighs be as heavy as they want to be. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.

Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

The air smells of paper, dust and floor polish. Someone is pushing a trolley two rows away, and you can hear each wheel separately.

Let your palms open if they were closed. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.

You might be planning something. Notice the planning, then come back. If you're sleepy, sit up a little. Or let the sleepiness be there.

Notice your hips, wide and settled. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

Nothing here needs following closely. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing.

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

Being at home and unable to settle is a very specific problem.

The end. Sleep well.

12 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.