As I was walking past a pawnshop in central Zagreb this morning, I saw a smallish woman in her late fifties or early sixties approach the shop. She stopped in front of the door, turned around as if to go away, stopped again, turned around again, crossed herself, and opened the shop door. What could she be pawning? Her wedding ring? Something else she got from her deceased husband? Facing a difficult decision, she was oblivious to the passersby. She was alone in the whole world. To pawn or not to pawn was the only question on her mind. In the end, she entered the shop. I turned around a few times, but there was no sign of her.