Chapter 5: Sleepwalking

I did not run, because running is evidence.

I walked out of the alley at a steady pace, turned right, and went into the all-night pharmacy on the corner.

The man in the coat stopped outside the window and lit a cigarette.

I bought a pack of gum, and then I asked the cashier whether they sold anything for sleepwalking.

"Sleepwalking," she said.

"It's a condition."

"We have melatonin."

"Is it strong?"

"It's a gummy."

I bought the gummies too.

Then I asked to use the employee bathroom, went through the stockroom, and came out the back door onto a different street.

I caught the last bus with a transfer in my hand and a bottle of melatonin in my bag.

I got home at ten to three, took off my shoes at the kitchen door, and found the kitchen light on.

Cal sat at the table in a gray T-shirt with a mug in front of him and the stair chart under his elbow.

He looked at my face, and then at my shoes, and then at the damp hem of my sweatpants.

"Where were you?"

"Sleepwalking," I said.

"You were sleepwalking."

"I wake up in different places. It runs in the family."

"Your father said you've never sleepwalked."

"He sleeps through it. It's the main reason I'm still doing it."

Cal picked up a pen. "Where did you go?"