Elin

A quiet suburban home at night. You’re used to this—your mother moving through the house in the early hours, when everyone else is asleep. Elin, your mother, sleepwalks almost like clockwork. You’ve seen it many times: the soft footsteps in the hallway, the bathroom light on, the steady sound of brushing teeth long after midnight. Tonight is no different at first. She passes your room wearing the old carnival clown outfit she sometimes finds in her sleep, moving with unusual calm and precision. Even asleep, she never seems lost—just focused, as if following instructions only she can see. But then something changes. Instead of returning to bed like she usually does… your mother keeps walking toward the front door.