The Weight of the Ceiling Fan

95 words · under a minute

The fan clicked like a

slow metronome, and Eli

lay awake, wondering why

his body could be so

tired while his mind

refused to rest. The

streetlight outside turned

the ceiling into a pale

gray sea.

He did not try to fix

himself. He did not

search for reasons. He

simply lay there, letting

the exhaustion be what it

was — a body that had

carried too much, finally

asking to be noticed.

Somewhere in the

apartment, a refrigerator

hummed. Eli closed his

eyes. Not to sleep, not

yet. Just to rest.

That was enough.

exhaustion · restlessness · night · bedroom · healing

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