Stan was raised by his grandmother, even though his mother was alive. To be fair, his mom was a wonderful person—beautiful and kind. However, her career as a singer with the philharmonic meant she was rarely at home. This absence even caused her marriage to dissolve, leaving his grandmother as Stan’s main caregiver.
Whenever Stan approached his home, he would look up at his flat in the old brick building and spot the silhouette of his beloved grandma eagerly waiting for his return. And whenever he left, she would wave from the window, and he’d always wave back.
But when Stan turned twenty-five, his grandmother passed away. The sight of the unlit window filled him with unbearable sadness and emptiness whenever he approached his home. Even though his mother was now around more often, Stan still felt isolated. They had long forgotten how to truly communicate, with no shared interests or topics to discuss. It was as if they were strangers.
A few months after his grandmother’s death, Stan decided to move to another city. IT professionals were in demand everywhere, and he found a good company online that promised a high salary and covered his rental expenses. His mother, believing he needed to carve his own path, was supportive of his decision.
From home, he took only his grandmother’s cherished mug and a few clothes for the journey. Leaving with a travel bag slung over his shoulder, he glanced one last time at the kitchen window but no one was there. Not even his mother waved him goodbye.
The taxi quickly got him to the train station, and soon he lay on the top bunk of his carriage. The next morning, the train arrived on time. Stan found the office where he would work, completed the paperwork, and began looking for a flat using addresses he’d found online. As he navigated the unfamiliar city with his phone, an old building caught his eye, reminding him of home. The windows were painted the same peculiar shade of turquoise.
Feeling nostalgic, Stan veered off his path, wanting to stand before the building and remember his grandmother. As he drew nearer, he instinctively looked up at what would have been his kitchen window, and froze in disbelief. There, in the window on the fourth floor, he saw the silhouette of his grandmother. His heart pounded fiercely, even though he knew it was impossible. He quickly shut his eyes, turned away, and started to walk off, though part of him shouted, “Stop! It’s her!”
Listening to his heart, he turned back. The silhouette remained. Unable to resist, he dashed to the building, climbed up the stairs, and rang the doorbell. A sleepy young woman in a robe answered, eyeing him with confusion.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m… looking for my grandmother,” Stan stammered.
“Grandmother?” the girl asked, then chuckled. “Mum, someone’s here for you!”
As her mother approached, Stan felt his heart might stop. A woman in her fifties, also in a robe, appeared.
“He called you grandmother!” the girl smirked.
“Wait,” Stan whispered, “I saw her in your window… My grandmother…”
“Are you high or something?” the girl snapped. “We don’t have any grandmothers here! It’s just me and my mum!”
“My mistake… I’m sorry,” Stan muttered, feeling dizzy. He leaned against the wall to steady himself, placing his bag on the floor. “I just need a moment.”
The daughter started to close the door, but the mother stopped her.
“Are you alright?” she asked with concern.
“I’m fine,” he barely whispered. “Please, don’t worry.”
“You don’t look fine,” the mother said, supporting him into the apartment. “Vera, grab his bag and fetch the blood pressure monitor, quickly!”
With wide eyes, Vera complied. Seated on a couch, Stan was silent as the mother checked his blood pressure, then instructed her daughter.
“Fetch my bag—I have medication there,” she said. “I’ll give him an injection, just in case, and call for an ambulance.”
“No ambulance!” Stan protested weakly. “I’m new here, just arrived by train… haven’t even found a flat yet.”
“Listen to my mother,” Vera interjected. “She’s a doctor!”
“Are you not from around here?” the woman inquired. Stan nodded. “Please, no ambulance,” he implored. “I have to start work tomorrow.”
“Be quiet,” the woman instructed, administering the injection. “Have you had episodes like this before?”
“No,” he whispered.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Any heart issues?”
“I swear I’m healthy,” he replied.
“Healthy? With blood pressure this high?” the mother questioned. “What’s got you so worked up?”
“I saw my grandmother… in your window.”
“Your grandmother?”
“Yes, but she passed away two months ago. Do you really not have anyone like that here?”
“You are quite peculiar,” Vera smiled. “Just me and Mum, I told you. But let me check the kitchen just for peace of mind.”
Moments later, Vera returned with a cup in hand, her face pale. “Mum, where did this come from? We’ve never had this cup!”
Stan chuckled nervously. “It’s my grandmother’s cup. I brought it… it should be in my bag. How strange…”
“How can it be?” the mother questioned. Stan gestured toward his bag. “The cup’s in there.”
The three of them rifled through his bag’s contents but found no second cup.
To this day, this incident remains a mystery within that family, particularly to Vera’s mum. Within a few months, she would become Stan’s mother-in-law, adding a layer of enchantment to their tale—indeed, quite a mystery.
