The house after everyone is asleep (a sleep story), when you are somewhere unfamiliar — for waking too early

Everything in the room is exactly where it was left. The fridge hums on and off in the kitchen, and that is the loudest thing in the building. The floorboards have stopped creaking because nobody is walking on them.

There is nothing left on the list for today. There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. The radiator clicks once as it cools down.

Notice your hips, wide and settled. Let your hands be completely still.

Let your calves spread out and flatten. Your fingers can stop doing anything at all.

Everyone went to bed an hour ago, and the house has stopped making the sounds it makes during the day. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.

Your chest can be still now. Let your feet get heavy first. Heavier than they need to be.

Feel the back of your knees soften into the bed. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.

The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall. A glass of water sits on the table, half finished.

Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Your eyelids can be too heavy to open, and that is fine.

Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone. The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen.

Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed.

You might be planning something. Notice the planning, then come back. Notice the moment you realise you've drifted. That moment is the whole skill.

Let the space between your eyebrows smooth out. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

Let the dark be ordinary. Let each breath be a little smaller than the last.

Let your attention settle somewhere low, like your feet. Let it all get further away. Let the quiet be boring.

Sleep. Just the dark. Let them.

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

I will stop here. The quiet will carry on without the words.