Gulping, Scarlet pulled away. Her grandma's fingers clenched in a brief effort to restrict her, but then let go.

Scarlet staggered out of her seat and backed against the rail, staring at her grandmother. The familiar unkempt hair in its always crooked braid. The familiar eyes, growing older as the peered up at her. Growing wider.

She blinked rapidly against the hallucination, and her grandmother's hands grew larger.

Repulsion ripped through Scarlet. She gripped the railing to hold herself steady.

"Who are you?"

(From Scarlet, ch. 29)