The house after everyone is asleep, when you have woken up too early — for jet lag

The story, in full

The clock in the hallway ticks slightly behind the one in the kitchen. Everything in the room is exactly where it was left. Outside, a car goes past and its headlights sweep across the ceiling, then are gone.

There is nothing left on the list for today. There is a chair by the window that nobody sits in during the day. The curtains are not quite closed, and there is a thin line of streetlight along the wall.

Let your tongue sit heavy in your mouth. Let your ribs stop working so hard.

Your fingers can stop doing anything at all. Your ankles can go loose now.

The radiator clicks once as it cools down. The lamp beside you is the only light left on in the whole house.

Let your calves spread out and flatten. Feel your heartbeat somewhere far away.

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

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.

If you're counting the minutes, that's fine. Count them and come back. Notice how you're sitting. Adjust if you need to. Then settle again.

Let your lower back sink down into the mattress. Feel your cheeks let go.

They will find their own way out. Just the dark.

Let your breathing do the rest. Let the breath be the only thing you are doing. Sleep.

Waking too early is a specific kind of frustrating. This helps with the frustration.

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

14 paragraphs, roughly 2 minutes read slowly aloud. Written for quiet, home.