‘My name isn’t Johan. It’s Jacob.’

Agneta looks at him with embarrassment and puts a hand on his arm. ‘Oh dear. Did I say Johan? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I know what your name is. It’s just a lot right now, you know.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Jacob says, smiling slightly. ‘And I think it’s exciting that so much is happening right now. Please tell me if I could help you with writing background material or anything at all.’

He’s not really sure what ‘background material’ means or what it’s supposed to contain, but he heard Frida use the words the other day and it sounds like a reasonable task for an intern. Something he could do so at least they’d remember that his name is Jacob.

‘Of course,’ Agneta nods. ‘Are you done with the receipts Frida gave you?’

‘Almost,’ he says. ‘They’ll be ready this afternoon. I’d better get to it.’ He lifts his coffee cup like a small salute and goes back to the corridor and to his own little office.

‘I’m really sorry about that thing with your name,’ he can hear Agneta saying behind him before he turns the corner.

*

With a sigh he takes down the box of receipts from a bookshelf and starts again. ‘Almost done’ was an exaggeration. He’s done about a third. But today, in his current state, he feels a kind of reluctant appreciation that he’s only sorting and stapling papers. The work is monotonous, almost automatic, and he can do it while his head and body are still in Yassim’s apartment. He feels his pulse start to race whenever his thoughts touch on what happened. Yassim’s mouth and hands. How he surrendered to Yassim, how he was willing to do anything for him. He stifles a gasp, so physical is the memory. He’s never felt anything like it.

At five o’clock he puts the final receipt on a shiny white piece of paper and is filled with pride when he looks down at three thick packets of chronologically arranged receipts.

But he’s also restless. He doesn’t feel like staying here at the embassy and doing nothing. It’s not as if anyone would miss him, he thinks as he stands up and heads towards Agneta’s room. He knocks softly and Agneta turns from her screen.

‘I’m done with the receipts,’ he says. ‘Is there something else you need me to do?’

He looks at her, hoping for something else, something more. There are riots and a revolution brewing no more than a few blocks away. There must be something bigger for him to do. Something more meaningful and noble than sorting through receipts.

Agneta smiles at him. She looks stressed and like she hasn’t slept properly.

‘Good work, Jacob,’ she says. ‘You see? Got the name right?’

He smiles back. ‘Bravo!’