The Comfort of sleep #ShortStory #Fiction by Leni Korhonen

The world outside was a tempestuous sea, a cacophony of noise and chaos. Yet, in the quiet sanctuary of his room, peace reigned supreme. He lay there, enveloped in a cocoon of warmth, his breathing slow and rhythmic. The gentle caress of the comforter against his skin was the only sensation he allowed himself to acknowledge.

He had chosen this solitude, this escape from the demands of the world. It was a luxury he rarely afforded himself, a moment of pure indulgence. The thought of rising from his bed filled him with dread. The day, with its endless to-do list and endless expectations, seemed to loom over him like a menacing specter.

He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander. Images of serene landscapes, tranquil beaches, and quiet forests danced before his inner vision. He was a traveler in dreams, exploring worlds far removed from the stresses of his daily existence.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his reverie. He ignored it, burying his head deeper into the pillow. The knocking persisted, growing louder and more insistent. Finally, he relented, mumbling something about being asleep.

"It's the simplest kind of comfort," he thought to himself, drifting back into slumber. A smile crept across his face as he imagined himself floating on a calm, crystal-clear lake. The sun warmed his skin, and the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore lulled him into a deeper state of relaxation.

Suddenly, he felt a pang of guilt. He had been so lost in his dreams that he had forgotten about the world outside. He forced himself to open his eyes and sit up in bed. The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, and the birds were singing cheerfully outside.

He took a deep breath and stretched his arms. The feeling of being rested and refreshed washed over him. He had found the comfort he had been seeking, not in the world outside, but within himself.

The morning sun streamed through the grimy windowpane, casting long, dancing shadows across the dusty floor. As he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, a chill crept up his spine, a stark reminder of the day that lay ahead. He had spent the night tossing and turning, haunted by the specter of failure. The impending interview, a chance to finally prove himself, loomed like a mountain, its peak shrouded in mist.

He remembered the countless hours he had spent preparing, the late nights poring over textbooks, the relentless practice sessions. He had come this far; he couldn't give up now.

As he stood, stretching his aching muscles, something shifted within him. The fear that had consumed him began to dissipate, replaced by a flicker of determination. He recalled the words of his grandfather, a wise old man who had always believed in him. "Remember," his grandfather had said, "fear is a natural human emotion, but it should never hold you back. It is in the face of fear that true courage is revealed."

With a deep breath, he stepped out into the hallway. The house was eerily quiet, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs. He paused for a moment, listening to the rhythmic beat, a comforting reminder of the passage of time. Then, with a newfound sense of purpose, he descended the stairs, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

As he reached the bottom step, he glanced out the window. The sky was a breathtaking canvas of hues, painted with shades of pink, orange, and purple. It was a beautiful sight, a reminder of the beauty that existed in the world, even in the darkest of times.