There was music on the radio now, and that voice he recognized came back and said something. It was a voice he’d heard several times. It spoke when he drove home from work during the day. Sometimes he drove at night.

He could feel how wet the ground was under his feet. He was standing beside his car but didn’t know how he’d gotten there. It was strange; he’d thought about the radio and then suddenly he was standing beside the car.

Children’s laughter again.

He was standing by the playground that was next to the trees that no longer had any leaves, only bare branches.

The video camera in his hand was hardly any bigger than a pack of cigarettes. A little bit bigger, perhaps. Amazing what they could make nowadays. He could hardly hear the faint hiss when he pressed the button and filmed what he could see.

He moved closer. There were children all around but he couldn’t see a single grown-up. Where were all the grown-ups? The children couldn’t be left alone, they might get hurt when they jumped down from the red and yellow jungle gym or leapt from the swings.

The jungle gym was right here, next to the entrance. He was standing by it.

A leap.

“Wheee!”

Laughter. He laughed again himself, jumped, no, but he could have jumped. He helped the little boy to his feet. Up again, up, up! Lift him up to the sky!

He took it from his pocket and held it out. Look what I’ve got here.

It was three paces to the entrance. Then four more to the car. The boy’s steps were shorter, six to the entrance and eight to the car.

Children, children everywhere, it struck him that he was the only one who could see the boy now, keep an eye on him. The grown-ups were standing over there with their coffee cups steaming in the air that was cold and damp, just like the ground.

More cars. The boy couldn’t be seen at all now, not from any direction. Only he could see him, he was holding his hand now.