Anja sold my green sofa online. It was an emotional process, since over the years I had written two novels and survived several heartbreaks on that couch. A few expressions of interest dropped in straight away. Somebody called Erich wrote to Anja saying he was very interested in buying it. He made a polite and humble attempt at bargaining by email, and Anja told him he could come and pick it up at my Berlin address on a recent Sunday.
When Erich arrived, it became clear that he was as much of an Erich as I was an Anja. The moment we shook hands at my door, my real name slipped out of my mouth and I looked at him, pretty embarrassed. He said: “Mohamed, pleasure.” We nodded the realisation of both our fake identities away and concluded our sofa deal within minutes. I looked at the empty space in my living room and felt lost.
