This is Afsona's desk. It is near the window. That desk, near the door, is Dilnoza's.
On Monday morning a new boy sits at Afsona's desk. His bag is on her chair.
"Excuse me," she says. "This is my desk."
"These desks have no names," the boy says.
He is right. These desks are old and grey, and those desks at the back are old and grey too.
"This is my seat because this window is my window," Afsona says. "I water these flowers every morning."
The boy looks at the flowers on the windowsill. Then he looks at the two old pots on the back windowsill.
"Those are dead," he says. "These are not."
"Yes," Afsona says. "Nobody sits at that desk."
The boy takes his bag and walks to the back of the room. On Friday there is water in the two old pots, and one small green leaf.
Now this class has two windows with flowers: this one and that one.