First week in lockdown. My house is full of pot plants. Refugees from my once shared office, now abandoned.

The thought crossed my mind this morning, I should name these tiny trees, my new green leafed colleagues. Give them individual identities. Keep me company.

But then I remembered how bad I am with names. What if I forget them? How uncomfortable, to be in the ‘office’ every day, avoiding using proper nouns, for fear of embarrassment. “There s/he is!” “Hey, you!” “I wouldn’t be able to borrow a business card would I?” “Have you met my friend?”

The social anxiety may get too much. I’d have to make excuses for not coming in. Just stay in bed. Under the covers. I think they’re talking about me. I hear their leaves rustling. No, surely not. I’m being paranoid. They don’t care. Nobody talks to me anyway. So impersonal. They don’t even know my name.