She hated to sleep, but she was beyond exhausted. She knew her body needed it, so she succumbed to it.
Just a nap, she willed herself.
It was around one in the morning, and she couldn’t be any happier about it. She got up and made herself a warm cup of milk. She savored each sip like a reward.
You deserve this peace, she thought.
It was quiet, but it was not the kind of silence that scares her. Her brain was not overthinking; all she could think was how good the milk tasted.
She moved slowly. There was no reason to rush, anyway. Weekdays were for chasing deadlines and running after time; weekends were for taking her time.
Write this down, and so she did.
At the bottom, she penned down: Remember, this is how gratitude for small things feel.
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