The house after everyone is asleep (a sleep story), when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for a restless night

Everything in the room is exactly where it was left. Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day. There is nothing left on the list for today.

The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. A glass of water sits on the table, half finished. The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them.

Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall.

Let the mattress take all of it. Let your calves spread out and flatten.

Let your ribs stop working so hard. Let your forearms get heavy and warm.

Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.

Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part. Feel the top of your head relax into the pillow.

The radiator clicks once as it cools down. There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day.

Your chest can be still now. Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other.

Notice if you're being hard on yourself about any of this. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.

Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress.

Let the room get slightly further away. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last.

They will find their own way out. Let the sound of this go soft at the edges. Nothing here needs following closely.

Let your breathing do the rest. Let them. Let the dark be ordinary.

It travels well. Hotels, spare rooms, other people’s sofas.

Let everything get quiet, including this.