Neda never did like waste. Throwing things away was hard for her, even when an object’s useful life was clearly at an end. At the beginning of their relationship, when she allowed Mr. N to visit her room, he was shocked to see all the junk she had in her closets. She was one of those people who developed an emotional attachment to things, who clung even to those possessions that were completely worn out. This comforted Mr. N somewhat, since he felt that, in light of her other hoarding, there was a good chance her affection toward him would last a lifetime—that she would preserve him just as she did shopping bags and magazines and trinkets. But then she threw him away. She, who never threw things away, threw away Mr. N.

When they were first getting to know each other, Neda told him she didn’t like men with bulging muscles. Mr. N was neither alarmed nor comforted by this. She also mentioned that she found something strangely attractive about men who were medium height, especially when they had big feet. Mr. N stole a glance at his own feet and wished he had simply confessed they were not size 43, as he had claimed at first, but 42. He had continued to wear shoes larger than his actual size for her sake, trying to match her ideal.

On the day she broke it off with him, their waiter appeared right after she’d delivered the blow. Mr. N contented himself with ordering a cup of coffee, but Neda didn’t order anything at all. Really! Was she really in such a hurry? Oh well. Her phone rang. She excused herself and stood up, moving a little distance away. After a quick conversation, she came back to sit across from Mr. N. She would keep their meeting brief, try to let him down easy, then head off to another appointment. That’s what Mr. N saw her thinking. Saw her doing. And why shouldn’t she already be in a relationship with someone else? Probably that was who’d just called her, the better to hurry her along in ending things with Mr. N, or to reassure himself that she’d already done so. Perhaps the other man was outside at that very moment, watching them, to make sure. How long had she been going behind his back and stringing him along until she was sure she wanted to leave?

Mr. N’s coffee arrived. He took a sip, then asked for the bill and paid. He would go. There wasn’t anything else to say. Anyway, he had gotten lost in his own head, and whenever that happened, there was no chance of any connection with the outside world. He stood up to say goodbye, careful to avoid looking at Neda. Seven years melted away in an instant, just like that. A lump of salt, nothing more! “Finished already?” she asked him in a low voice. When he didn’t reply, she held out the Victoria’s Secret bag. He took it and left after another moment of contemplation. Now he had to figure out how to wipe away the last seven years of his life. How? Well, just as he’d previously wiped away his entire childhood.