You walk silently down the corridor. Maybe the medication is playing tricks on you again. Very bad tricks. Just as you're getting closer to the door, you hear your name, pluck up your courage and open the door. It's Señora María's grandchildren, did your mother promise them something? Sometimes you share a snack, Madame's pension doesn't go far enough. You shrug your shoulders waiting for an answer and then, the youngest, holds out her arms with a maths book. You remember that book, your father could still help you then. Their grandmother was wondering if you could help them, she can't read or write and the exercises now are too difficult to explain them off the top of her head, do you think you can?