06/09/2026
Your phone sleeps in another room tonight. The alarm clock on the nightstand ticks softly, and the room feels bigger somehow.
There's something about the weight of your head on the pillow when there's no blue light washing the ceiling. No notifications pulling at the edges of sleep. Just the sound of your own breathing and the quiet space between today and tomorrow.
Your body remembers how to settle into it. The clock keeps ticking, and the room stays still.