Sleep story: a library at closing time, when you are on your own — for the hours after a late shift

The story, in full

The carpet has flattened every sound in the building down to nothing. There is a trolley of returned books beside the desk, waiting to be put back. 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. Everything here will still be here tomorrow. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.

Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Feel your cheeks let go.

Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away. Feel your wrists loosen.

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.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up.

Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

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

Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Let your hands be completely still.

The reading room you are in has one lamp left on, and it is the one above your table. The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows.

Let the back of your neck lengthen out. Let your palms open if they were closed.

The library closed twenty minutes ago, and the staff are working along the far shelves, switching off sections. The clock above the door is the old kind, with a second hand that moves in small jumps.

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 air smells of paper, dust and floor polish. The last of the day's light is going out of the high windows.

If your mind is quiet, don't grab at it. Quiet comes and goes too. You might be planning something. Notice the planning, then come back.

Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.

Let the dark be ordinary. Let the next part go past without you.

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

Just the dark. Let your breathing do the rest. Follow the breath out, and let the next one arrive by itself.

Being on your own is not required, but it does make this simpler.

The room is dark, the day is finished, and nothing is required of you.

21 paragraphs, roughly 4 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, books.