Fresco stepped out into a dark hall. His socked feet felt carpet. He looked down at the stained and threadbare runner running the length of the long hallway. There were many doors just like his, all closed. The murmur of voices remained, and he tried to figure out where they were coming from.

As he turned to walk down the corridor, he heard a door slam and the sound of running feet. Flinching back against the wall, Fresco watched two kids about twelve and thirteen run laughing ...