He remembered my name

Today the GM came down to our floor.

Same dining room. Same wood walls. He bowed small, like we know each other. We do. He took my photo two years ago for the brochure. He still remembers me.

He put a paper in front of me.

Wait sixty days. Be quiet six months. A lawyer if they stop.

I read it three times.

My hand went to my pocket. The pen was right there. I did not take it out. The last line I wrote still sits on the June 28th page. I left it there.

Aigoo.

I sat and smiled at him. I am so good at smiling. My face does it on its own now.

I came home to my plants. They do not ask me anything. That is why I keep them.

Why am I scared of a man who remembers my name?