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her telling him, but also his own voice vainly refuting it, the following: enough was enough, she was tired of his grumbling and his digs about her extra kilos, her nutrition, the books she read or didn’t read, the films she watched or those she didn’t watch, the exercising she didn’t do, the internet she was permanently glued to. She had had it up to here, she added – and drew an imaginary line on her forehead with her finger – that for every comment she made, he would turn around to say that things were far more complicated than she thought them to be (despite not ever bringing home to her what their complexity finally consisted of). That deep down, (although not so deep after all since it was as clear as daylight) – and this was the most offensive part she spat out with tears in her eyes and that dra-matic tension which always colored her words – he be-lieved that he deserved something better. Yes, exactly like that, she was even certain about how he worded it all in his mind, because ok, he had enough tact not to blurt it out squarely - “something”, as if she was a thing, an object. Words could not describe, she con-tinued, how pissed off she was every single time they were out walking together, guessing from the ecstatic expression in his eyes (like an astrophysicist guesses at the existence of an exoplanet based on the decrease in luminosity of a star, when one passes by in front