Jeremy.

The plant is clean. Jeremy uses a sponge cloth to wipe the leaves and so it never gets dusty. Jeremy does not like dust. He does this every day to the sounds of the outside world, muted through the window. It works a little to block the hum of cars inching along the road that come at eight o'clock, or the sounds of children; vulgar and noisy when school finishes.

Jeremy cleans the windowsill with a different sponge, In some way there is a reason for this. He does not like looking down from his window. His room is on the third floor, which is not that high, but it is high enough for Jeremy. There are hundreds of people below. They walk in grey lines with briefcases and miserable faces. Jeremy likes is when it rains on them.

When it rains he sits in his one-seater sofa and looks straight out of the window. When he does this he can see into other apartments across the road. Mostly they are empty and the people are at work.

Jeremy does not have a job, but he does work. On Thursdays he hoovers his sofa. It is a 1980s brown, but is comfortable beyond repair. It has a cushion beaten well enough that it fits on the sofa with him. He also hoovers the floor. The carpet is short.

The people down the corridor do not like Jeremy, though he does not know them very well. They are all retired and spend most of their days wasting their government pensions and staying inside. Jeremy does not like them either. He thinks they are time wasters.