The elderly lady looked like a good-natured granny from a storybook—short, curly white hair, glasses with ashtray-sized lenses, an old-fashioned jacket, and a small handbag resting on her lap. Her voice matched her appearance: thin and slightly raspy.

“Of course, my child, have a seat.”

The woman thanked her and sat down next to the elderly lady.

“How has your trip been going so far? I hope it hasn’t been too stressful.”

The lady leaned toward her new seatmate and placed her hand gently on the woman’s knee.

“No complaints so far. Thank you for asking. How about you?”

The older lady’s smile grew even wider at the woman’s courtesies. “Good, good. I cannot complain either. We’ve already seen two very interesting places.”

“Yes, that’s true. It almost makes you want to stay,” the woman agreed.

“Yes, yes. But it would be a shame to end the journey so soon. I’d like to visit a few more beautiful places before I commit myself forever.”

The lady’s voice carried a peaceful, hopeful tone. Her modesty could make any stop be the perfect one for her.

“Do you not fear what might come?” the woman asked, admiration and a little hint of worry in her voice.

“No, my child,” the lady replied with the kind of good-hearted smile reserved for a toddler’s naïve but curious question. “I had nothing to fear, nor anything to regret. I had a good life—a happy childhood, a wild youth, a loving husband, three little rascals, and a beautiful little princess. Oh, but I don’t want to bore you with an old woman’s tales.”

“Old woman’s tales are never boring,” the younger woman clarified, “please, go on.”

The lady seemed moved by her interest. A touch of appreciation crept into her smile. “What a sweet child you are. Just like my grandson—an angel inside and out, with his golden curls and blue eyes. I cannot stop thinking about him.”

Her expression grew dreamy, her mind wandering.

“He was always so kind to everyone, especially his sisters. Such a good boy…” She sighed before returning to the present. “He is the only thing I dearly miss here.”

The woman touched the grandmother’s hand, still resting on her knee.

“I do not think he belongs here just yet,” she said softly.

“No, of course not!” The lady corrected herself, her voice earnest. “He is but a child. Oh, I hope he is well. I get so anxious not knowing where he wis or what he is doing. There are so many bad things that could happen to him, and I am no longer there to protect him. While I was still with him, I always kept an eye on him. He is such an innocent little angel.”

The old lady leaned back into her seat, her warm smile replaced by a worried frown. Her gaze fell to her palms, now delicately resting in her lap, as though she could see her grandson there.

“Don’t worry. I am sure he is well,” the woman soothed. “He has two loving parents and siblings to watch over him.”

For a moment, a grateful expression crossed the grandmother’s face.

“You are so good to me. I’m overthinking again, aren’t I? Karl used to tell me this all the time: ‘You have a head full of sorrows,’ he’d say. ‘Where will we end up with all these worries of yours?’ He was a good man, always looking out for me. I just hope he is still well.”

The train came to a stop, and both women turned to the window. The ride had been so short they barely noticed the time passing.

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Beyond the glass, crowds of people bustled through brightly lit corridors, carrying shopping bags and hurrying past colorful advertisements lining the shop windows.

“A shopping mall,” the elderly lady said, her expression as puzzled as the one on younger woman’s face. “I never thought I’d live to see a train stop in such a place.”

They stepped off the train and, as expected, found themselves in a shopping center. The many shops, islands, and bridges formed a vast labyrinth that seemed to swallow and spit out shoppers at will. Above them, there were a few more floors before the building was capped by a colorful glass roof. Below, however, the floors seemed to stretch endlessly. The entire building was flooded with people, but the train and the tracks, which ran directly through the building and even through some of the shops, seemed to bother no one.

“What is this place? I was prepared for a lot, but this?!”

The elderly lady, who seemed so calm on the train, now appeared nervous—almost agitated. This was one of the few stops she did not appreciate. The woman felt a pang of sadness watching the confused older lady. Of all the people she had met so far, this was the last person who deserved such a fate. Should they turn back? The lady still had several tickets. She could continue the journey and perhaps find a less painful stop for herself. But she shook off the hesitation. It was none of her business.

“Let’s take a look around before we get back on the train,” the elderly lady sighed, taking the woman by the hand, as if she were a little child and walking off.

They didn’t go far, to make sure they wouldn’t get lost—even though the woman knew that no matter how vast the labyrinth seemed, she could never truly lose her way. At least, not she herself. No matter how far she went, she would always find her way back to the train because her stop was yet to come.

They were just about to turn around—the labyrinth of shops and seating areas seemed endless, its form and nature unchanging no matter how far they ventured—when the grandmother suddenly froze. The woman followed her gaze and spotted golden curls weaving through the crowd toward them.

“Angel? Is that you, my little angel?” The elderly lady’s voice trembled as she called out to her grandson.

“Granny!” The child burst out of the crowd and into his grandmother’s arms. “Granny, I missed you!”

“Oh, my little angel, I missed you too, I missed you so much.” The grandmother hugged him tightly, then let him go and held him at arm’s length to look at him. “You’ve grown so much.”

“Granny, I found something. You have to see this!” the boy interrupted her excitedly. “Come on, quick!”

He took her hand and dashed off into the crowd. The elderly lady stumbled behind him, trying to keep up, but she stood no chance against her grandson’s young, nimble legs. In an inattentive moment, his hand slipped from hers and the golden curls quickly disappeared among the many figures.

“Angel? Angel, where are you? Granny’s old and not as fast as you,” her voice carried a hint of worry as she called out, “Angel? Angel?!”

Her worry quickly turned into panic when she got no response. “Why isn’t he answering? Did… did something happen to him?”

“I don’t think so,” the woman had caught up with the older lady and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We should go back. Otherwise, the train will leave without us.”

“But… but my angel. He’s gone. I have to find him. What if something bad has happened to him? This shopping center is so big. What if he gets lost? What if someone takes him?” The lady looked around frantically, trying to spot her grandson’s golden curls among the families, couples, and solitary figures.

Her gaze anxiously scanned through the people who didn’t exist for a child who wasn’t there—but she couldn’t see that. All she saw was that her grandson wasn’t with her and must therefore be in grave danger.

“We need to get back to the train.” The woman’s voice sounded urgent, almost desperate.

“No…” the older lady whispered, “No, I can’t leave my angel here. He needs me.”

“He’s not here!” Desperately, the woman grabbed the lady by the shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. “He is not here. He doesn’t belong here yet!”

The grandmother didn’t meet her gaze; her eyes continued scanning the crowd. “My angel… he needs me… Maybe something’s already happened to him. I have to find him!”

She broke free from the woman’s grip and disappeared into the crowd as quickly as her grandson had. The woman watched her go, her resolve fading once more. This wasn’t her responsibility.

A few times, she caught glimpses of the grandmother’s white hair bobbing among the masses. She gave it one last look before turning away and stepping onto the train that had appeared behind her.

In the short time she had spent with the older lady, she had grown fond of her. Even though the grandmother might have been something of a control freak to her children and grandchildren—with her daily calls and weekly visits—she had a good heart. And even if she had pushed her family away and, in the end, received mostly resentment from her children, for whom her constant worry had become chains and shackles, she was still mourned and longed for when her time came to an end. Her good heart was something anyone could see and feel. She didn’t deserve this stop.

The woman wiped away a tear as she glanced one last time out the window, searching for that white curly hair, when the train began to move.