I walked to the stairs and watched Lily walk out the front door to catch her school bus at the corner.

Once she was gone, I turned toward the hallway.

The guest room door was shut tight.

I walked slowly toward it, my sneakers squeaking on the polished wood.

I knocked softly, my heart beating in my throat.

“Eleanor?” I called out.

There was no answer.

I turned the brass doorknob and pushed the door open.

The room was dim, the heavy curtains drawn shut to block out the morning sun.

Eleanor was lying on the bed, her back to me, her breathing slow and heavy.

She was already asleep, deep in a state that looked more like a coma than rest.

I stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind me.

The room smelled of stale lavender, mothballs, and a faint, chemical scent I couldn’t place.

I walked to the bedside table.

There was a water glass, half empty, and a small plastic cup.

Inside the cup lay a tiny speck of white powder.

I turned to the wooden wardrobe in the corner.