Sleep story · travel, cozy
The night train (a sleep story), if you are tired of apps — for the hours after a late shift
Somewhere between two cities, in the dark, where nobody needs anything from you.
Reading it yourself. Back to the audio version.
Outside, the fields go past without anything in them you need to see. The lights along the aisle are dimmed to the colour of weak tea. A station passes without stopping — a platform, a lamp, three empty benches, then dark again.
The heating is on low, and the air smells faintly of clean metal and old upholstery. Your bag is wedged under the seat in front, out of the way of your feet. There is one other person in this carriage, four rows up, asleep with a coat over their knees.
Feel your heels sink a little into the mattress. Let your palms open if they were closed.
Let your forehead go cool and smooth. Feel your belly rise and fall without any help from you.
The seat reclines one notch further than you expected it to. Every so often the wheels change their note as they cross a join in the rail.
Feel one shoulder go heavy, then the other. Let the mattress take all of it.
Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Let your toes stop holding on to anything.
Somewhere ahead of you, a door opens and closes with a soft, deliberate sound. The train left a quarter of an hour ago, and the carriage has already settled into its own quiet.
Notice anything you're holding onto from earlier today. If you feel emotional, you don't have to explain it to anyone, including yourself.
Feel the weight of your head on the pillow. Your jaw can drop slightly. Let your teeth part.
Just the breath. Nothing needs deciding tonight.
Just the dark. Let the thoughts come and go without you getting up to answer. You can stop listening properly.
No account, no streak, no notification asking how you feel.
There is nothing more to follow. Let the rest happen on its own.