I want to take off my jacket, but I'm not allowed. My grandpa and I are standing near the entry inside the apartment of an old woman. My mother wanted to give her a short visit. I don't know the woman. She lives in a big grey apartment building, in the ugliest part of town.

There's a tiled stove right next to us, it's unbelievably hot, but I'm not allowed to take off my jacket, I'm told we'll leave in like a minute. I can't see the old woman, only my mother is in her bedroom. I imagine the woman lying in bed, wearing a night gown, old and weak. She's not feeling well. Her furniture is typical for old people, brown, grey, dark green. I stand next to my grandpa, sweating in my red jacket, switching my weight from one foot to the other.

We were only there one time, never again. I never visited anyone ever again with my mother and my grandpa. I don't know why we were there, why me and my grandpa came along.