It happened that Stan was raised by his grandmother, even though his mother was alive. To be fair, his mother was a very good woman—beautiful and kind-hearted. However, she worked as a singer at the local symphony hall, which meant she wasn’t home often. Her frequent travels were even the reason she and her husband, Stan’s father, separated. So, his grandmother was the one who took care of him.
As far back as Stan could remember, whenever he approached his home—an old block of flats—he would always look up and see the silhouette of his beloved grandmother eagerly waiting for him in the window on the fourth floor. And whenever she saw him off, she’d wave from the window, and he’d always wave back.
But when Stan turned twenty-five, his grandmother passed away. Now, approaching his building and not seeing that familiar silhouette, he felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and emptiness. Even when his mother was around, he still felt lonely. They had lost the ability to communicate and connect with one another, as though they were strangers. They had no common topics or mutual interests and didn’t discuss any of life’s troubles.
A couple of months after his grandmother’s death, Stan suddenly decided to move to another city. After all, he had a great skill as an IT specialist, and those were needed everywhere. He quickly found a reputable company online that promised a good salary and would cover his rent.
His mother was pleased at the news. Her son was grown and should carve out his own path in the world, away from his mother.
He took only his grandmother’s favorite tea cup as a keepsake and a few clothes for the meantime. As he left with his duffle bag over his shoulder, he glanced back up at the kitchen window, seeing it empty yet again. His mother didn’t even come to wave him off.
The taxi swiftly took him to the train station, and soon he was lying in the top bunk of a carriage. The next morning, the train arrived on time, and Stan found his way to the office where he’d be working, settled his paperwork, and set off to choose a flat, selecting from the addresses he’d found online beforehand.
Walking around an unfamiliar city with the help of his phone’s GPS, he suddenly noticed an old block of flats that looked eerily like his own. Though these buildings often looked similar, something about this one felt familiar—perhaps it was the peculiar turquoise color of the window frames.
Stan felt an impulse to veer off his path and head towards the building. He simply wanted to stand there for a moment and remember his grandmother. As he got closer, he instinctively looked up at the window where his kitchen would have been, and he froze…
His head spun. On the fourth floor, at the kitchen window, he saw the silhouette of his grandmother. He recognized it immediately, and his heart raced with disbelief.
Stan knew this was impossible, so he quickly shut his eyes, turned around, and started to walk away. Rationality told him it must be another grandmother standing there, but his heart insisted, “Stop! It’s her!”
Listening to his heart, he turned back and looked up again. The silhouette was still there.
Unable to resist, he rushed towards the building and entered the fourth entrance. As at home, the lock on the door was broken, so he dashed up to the fourth floor and rang the bell.
A sleepy young lady in a dressing gown answered, looking puzzled at the unfamiliar guest before asking irritably, “Who are you here for?”
“Me?” Stan stammered. “I’m here to see Grandma…”
“Grandma?” she echoed in surprise before calling into the flat, “Mum! Someone’s here for you!”
While they waited for her mother to approach, the young woman eyed Stan curiously.
Stan’s head was now swimming—he felt like his heart might stop.
“Who’s calling for me?” a similarly sleepy woman in her fifties appeared at the door.
“Mum, guess what?” the girl smirked. “He called you Grandma.”
“Wait,” Stan whispered, “I wasn’t calling for her… I mean… In your window, the kitchen… There was a grandmother. Mine. I swear I saw her there.”
“Are you on something?” the girl scoffed. “We don’t have any grandmothers here! It’s just me and my mum!”
“Right, got it… Sorry… I must be mistaken…” Stan’s vision blurred. He stepped back, set his bag down, and leaned against the wall to keep from falling. “Sorry… I’ll just stand here for a moment and leave…”
The girl began to close the door, but her mother stopped her.
“Hey, young man,” she addressed him with concern, “are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine…” he barely whispered in response. “Don’t worry…”
“It looks like your blood pressure’s sky-high. Your face is beet-red… Let’s go.” She put an arm under his and gently guided him into the flat, giving her daughter instructions: “Vera, grab his bag, bring it inside! Fetch the blood pressure monitor quickly!”
Wide-eyed with alarm, the daughter did as her mother instructed.
The mother sat Stan on a couch in the hallway and silently took his blood pressure. Then, she started issuing more commands to her daughter, who was watching the whole scene with her mouth agape.
“Bring me my bag. I’ve got some injections…” she continued, turning to Stan. “I’ll give you a shot just in case, and we’ll call for an ambulance…”
“No ambulance, please!” he moaned in fear. “I just got off the train… I don’t know anyone here… I haven’t even gotten a flat yet…”
“Listen to my mum!” Vera interjected. “She’s a doctor, understand?”
“Are you not from around here?” the mother asked.
He just nodded silently and repeated, “Please, don’t call anyone… I have to start work tomorrow. My first day… I just got the job…”
“Quiet!” The mother was already giving him a shot. “Have you had any episodes like this before?”
“No,” he whispered.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five…”
“Any heart problems?”
“I swear, I’m perfectly healthy…”
“Perfectly healthy, huh? So why’s your pressure so high? One-eighty over a hundred—it’s no joke…”
“Maybe it’s from stress.”
“What kind of stress?”
“I told you, I saw my grandmother in your window. She was standing there, in the kitchen, looking… At me.”
“Your grandmother?”
“Yes. But she passed away. Two months ago. Are there no grandmothers in your building?”
“You’re strange…” Vera smiled. “I told you, it’s just me and Mum. But to put your mind at ease, I’ll go to the kitchen and check.”
Vera indeed trotted off to the kitchen, only to scream moments later.
“Mum! What is this?!” She stood in the hallway, holding an unfamiliar tea cup. “Where did this come from, Mum?! We’ve never had cups like this!”
“Oh…” Stan laughed foolishly. “That’s my grandmother’s cup. I brought it… But it should be in my bag. Some kind of mystery…”
“And where’s your bag?” The mother and daughter looked at him in astonishment, unable to comprehend.
“Where? Right here…” He nodded at his duffle bag by the door. “The cup should be in there…”
Together, they searched through his bag but found no second cup.
This incident remains unexplained for Vera’s family to this day, especially for Vera’s mum. Just a few months later, she became Stan’s mother-in-law. Truly mysterious…
