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You only need to turn your head to see her.

Mouth stern—eyes fixed and steady—your grandma meets your gaze at once..

You don't move a muscle. All you can do is keep your eyes trained on her, examining every inch of her face with uncertainty—and suspicion. The fact that she's here at the same time as you—it doesn't seem like it can be a coincidence.

Seeing her standing in front of you, you forget how to think. You forget everything about why you were here. All you can do is stare at her—take in the long overcoat, more like a cloak, that she's wrapped herself in, and the way her gray hair is pulled back tightly from her face. She doesn't look like the grandmother you know, calm and easy in her forest home. She looks wary, sharp, strained. It's as if, since you last saw her, she's been almost always on the move. You find yourself breathing faster as your heart races, wondering if it's really her.

And from the way she's looking at you, you almost get the feeling she's thinking the same thing.

After a few long moments, you do the first thing that comes into your head.