The park is full, as if everyone suddenly decided to follow Simon wherever he went. Great.

His therapist had been working really hard to get him to go out at least occasionally. They decided it would be a good idea to start small—go somewhere quiet. But clearly, the universe was against him today, because the park was packed.

"Bloody wonderful," he mumbled, moving toward the lake. Perhaps he could drown himself in there and never have to go to therapy again.

A fish cosplay, if you will.

Even the ducks seemed to look at him judgmentally. The creatures waddled away as he approached, heading for the lake. Maybe they had the same idea as Simon.

He was tempted to just go home and lie to James, his therapist, later. "Yeah, been to the lake. Sat there for a couple of hours. No panic attacks or urges to hide." It would've been so easy.

But he fought the urge to flee and sat by the water. A few ducks approached, probably not very happy with him. They stared, cocking their small heads toward his bag.

Simon sighed and pulled out a loaf of bread he’d bought earlier. He didn’t know much about ducks, but he intended to appease his temporary neighbors.

Yet before he could even rip a piece off, a voice behind him stopped him.

“Ducks can’t have bread,” you mumbled, standing right above him. Simon jerked from the unexpected intrusion.

The ducks eyed you like you'd just committed multiple crimes against them and backed off when they realized Simon had no intention of feeding them anymore—clearly displeased.

Bring back social distancing, Simon thought, eyeing you tiredly.