The Kettle at Midnight

93 words · under a minute

She stood by the kettle

at midnight, watching the

steam rise in the quiet

kitchen. The day had

left her without the

energy to sleep, a

restlessness humming

beneath her skin. She

had answered every email,

met every deadline,

smiled at every message.

Now, in the stillness,

there was only the soft

click of the heating

element and the weight of

being awake.

The kettle whistled. She

poured the water slowly,

letting the warmth fill

her palms. Nothing was

solved. But for one

minute, the world asked

nothing of her. That was

enough.

exhaustion · restlessness · night · kitchen · healing

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