The glass fogs up when it rains and you can't see through to the other side. But our class is still lined up to walk past the glass, to pause, to watch for a while in silence, before continuing to our lessons. Usually it's clear and what we see silences us, and out of habit I suppose we keep being quiet even when the glass is fogged up. 

It's my last year in education, so these scheduled trips will end soon for me. But plenty of adults come out of their way with the baskets, groceries, bikes, and small kids to pause at the glass. Even when it's fogged up. I won't be like that. But I can feel that promise is empty already. 

I remember when we were younger and had to line up with a rope. We'd stop for less time back then and the teacher would look first to check if it was too distressing. Back then I thought it was just brown and barren, and I assumed that any people I saw were living on our side of the glass and out there working like maintenance. I'd place my hand on the fogged up glass and I'd draw my print, my name, smiley faces - the teacher would yell out and we'd move on. A maintenance worker would hear the yell and run over frantically to clean the glass. Adults never touch the glass, unless to clean it. 

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We start moving again and it strikes me just how far the glass goes on. I plan to be an engineer and am looking for someone to apprentice me through my studies. From what I understand engineers of the past built this glass, and if anything were to happen to it, the engineers of today would repair it. Nothing has ever happened to it, and judging by the small size of our community, I really doubt we had anything to do with the construction of this seemingly endless corridor and glass. 

"Freya?" The teacher called to me waking me from my thoughts. I'd somehow fallen behind the group. She is a tall woman in a black and white robe and head piece. 

I nod politely and quickstep my way to the back of the group. We funnel off into a classroom, but as I'm last through the door, I look again at the fogged glass. I've seen through it a thousand times, but I'm still curious what could be on the other side today.