Stan was raised by his grandmother, even though his mother was alive. To be fair, his mother was a wonderful person—beautiful and kind—but she worked as a singer at a concert hall and was rarely home. Her frequent absences even led to her splitting up with Stan’s father, leaving his grandmother to care for him.
For as long as Stan could remember, whenever he approached their home, an old block of flats, he would always look up and see the silhouette of his beloved grandmother in the fourth-floor window. She eagerly awaited his return, and when she saw him off, she’d wave from the window as Stan waved back.
But when Stan turned twenty-five, his grandmother passed away. Approaching his home and not seeing her familiar silhouette made him indescribably sad and empty. Even when his mother was home, Stan felt alone. Over the years, they had drifted apart. They no longer shared conversations, nor did they have common interests or shared concerns. They hardly discussed everyday matters, as if they were strangers.
A few months after his grandmother’s passing, Stan decided to move to another city. He had a valuable skill set as a tech professional, which was in demand everywhere. Through the internet, he quickly found a reputable company offering a high salary and covering his accommodation expenses. His mother was pleased with his decision. After all, he was grown up and needed to find his path on his own, away from home.
From his home, he took just his cherished grandmother’s cup as a keepsake and a few clothes. With a travel bag slung over his shoulder, he looked up one last time at the kitchen window but saw nobody there. His mother didn’t even come to wave goodbye. A taxi swiftly took him to the railway station, and soon he was on the upper bunk of a train carriage.
The next morning, the train arrived on time. Stan found the office where he was to work, got everything sorted, and then started looking for a place to stay using addresses he had found online. While navigating the unfamiliar city with his phone, he stumbled across a block of flats eerily similar to his own. Despite knowing that these buildings all look alike, he felt a strange connection to this particular one. The frames were painted the same peculiar turquoise color as those at his home.
Stan’s curiosity got the better of him, and he walked toward the building. He wanted to stand there for a while to remember his grandmother. As he approached, he instinctively looked up at the window where his kitchen would have been and stopped dead in his tracks…because he saw her. The silhouette of his grandmother was unmistakable, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
Rationally, Stan knew it couldn’t be. He quickly closed his eyes, turned, and walked away. Logic told him it was someone else’s grandmother at the window, but his heart cried out, “Stop! It’s her!” He surrendered to his heart, turned around, and looked upward again.
The silhouette was still there.
He couldn’t contain himself. Clutching his bag, he rushed to the building and flew up the stairs to the fourth floor. The lock on the stairwell door, just like at home, was broken, so he bolted up to that familiar level and rang the doorbell.
An sleepy young woman in a robe answered, staring at the unfamiliar sight of Stan with confusion. “Can I help you?”
“I… I’m here to see, um, my grandmother,” Stan stammered.
“Your grandmother?” the woman asked incredulously, then smirked and shouted inside, “Mum! You’ve got a visitor!”
While she waited for her mother, the woman eyed Stan curiously.
Stan felt as if his heart would stop. A sleepy woman in her fifties appeared. “Who’s looking for me?” she asked.
“Mum, get this,” the young woman chuckled. “He called you grandmother.”
“Hang on,” Stan whispered. “I wasn’t looking for this lady… In your window… In the kitchen… I saw my grandmother. I’m sure of it.”
“You on something?” the young woman asked disdainfully. “There’s no grandmother here! It’s just me and Mum! Understand?”
“Yes, I understand… I’m sorry; I made a mistake…” Dizzy, Stan took a step back, placed his bag on the floor, and leaned against the wall for support. “I’ll just stand here for a moment and leave…”
The daughter was about to close the door, but her mother stopped her. “Hey, young man, are you alright?” she asked with concern.
“I’m fine…” he whispered, not convincingly. “Don’t worry about me…”
“You look like your blood pressure’s through the roof. Your face is beet-red. Let’s get you inside.” She came out and helped him into the apartment, instructing her daughter, “Vera, grab his bag and bring it inside! Go fetch the blood pressure monitor! Quickly!”
Wide-eyed with fear, Vera followed her mother’s instructions. The woman sat Stan down on a couch and measured his blood pressure. Then she turned to Vera, who had been silently watching.
“Bring my medical kit,” she directed her daughter. “I’ll give him an injection to be safe, and we might need to call an ambulance…”
“No, please, not an ambulance,” Stan groaned, panic rising. “I just got here… I haven’t even found a place to live yet…”
“Listen to my mum!” Vera interrupted, “She’s a doctor, got it?”
“Are you from out of town?” the woman asked.
Stan nodded instead of replying. Then he pleaded again, “Please, don’t call the ambulance… I’m starting a new job tomorrow. It’s my first day…”
“Quiet now,” the woman said as she administered the medication. “Have you had episodes like this before?”
“No,” he whispered.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five…”
“Any heart troubles?”
“I swear, I’m perfectly healthy…”
“Healthy, you say? Then why’s your pressure so high? One-eighty over a hundred is no joke…”
“Maybe it’s just nerves.”
“What made you so nervous?”
“I told you, I saw my grandmother in your window… Standing there in the kitchen… She was looking at me.”
“Your grandmother?”
“Yes. But she passed away. A couple of months ago. Are you sure there’s no grandmother in your flat?”
“You’re an odd one,” Vera giggled. “I told you, it’s just me and Mum. But just to ease your mind, I’ll go check the kitchen.”
Vera playfully headed to the kitchen, but after a few moments, she let out a scared yell, “Mum! What is this?” She stood in the hallway, holding an unfamiliar cup. “Where did this come from, Mum? We’ve never had cups like this!”
“Oh…” Stan chuckled foolishly. “That’s my grandmother’s cup. I took it… But it should be in my bag. This is really strange…”
“Where’s your bag?” Vera’s mum and daughter stared, bewildered.
“Isn’t it…” He gestured to his travel bag near the door. “The cup is supposed to be there…”
Together, they emptied the bag, but no second cup was found.
To this day, this event remains a mystery to Vera’s family. Especially to Vera’s mother. After all, just a few months later, she became Stan’s mother-in-law. Truly, it’s like something out of a storybook…
