something from a shelf by the window. He scans the room again, paying careful attention to exactly what he can see. Everything seems ok except … no, something is wrong. On the shelves and in the children's hands there are lots of spaces, where something is more blurred than anywhere else in the room.
The door to the classroom opens. There is a gust of air. He hears a familiar voice and he gets up from his chair, excited because someone has come to take him home. He looks at the figure and it's so familiar – the skirt with white spots on, and the cardigan with big black buttons – but where the face should be, there is just haze; he can't make anything out at all.