Old women in the tube

I just came back from work. In the tube, I was sitting before this really old woman: one of these women that you can hardly see in Barcelona lately. She was there, sitting in front of me, with this scared face that really old women seem to have by default. Her face was all wrinkles, but wrinkles with an order, all of them pointing to the woman's nose, like the lines of a magnetic field with the poles in the ears.
She was really old, and acted like a really old woman. She stood up from her seat when the train stopped at the station before her station. I remember my grandma did the same when we came back from school, when I was still not supposed to come back on my own. "We just stand up now, so we are prepared to get off on time and avoid the unstability of the train" (she didn't use the word unstability, of course, but I can't think of the right word now)
If you salt with a bit of philosophy all these words, you could say that they really want to get off the train as soon as possible, and that it's not surprising. These women do not belong to this world anymore. Everything they can remember is dead. Friends, love, the village where they were born, the first house they lived at in Barcelona. Everything's gone. What are they doing in the tube, at seven thirty at night? Where are they going? Why are they going? I would also be scared if everything around me, while crossing a strange city through underground tunnels, belonged to a time that is just my ending.