My ex, Ray, claimed he could see inside me. Your bones, he’d said on our first date. I’d assumed he was referring to the aesthetic aspect of my skeletal structure, perhaps complimenting me on high cheekbones or a soft jawline, without directly saying so. But then one day he asked why I didn’t have the cavity in my left molar fixed. When I said I didn’t know I had a cavity in my left molar and inquired as to how he knew, Ray just shrugged. I let it go, but soon he became concerned about the arthritis in my knees.

I didn’t really have any stiffness or pain, so I said, What arthritis?

And you’ll probably need a hip replacement at some point, he said.

Well, I guess I’ll see what a doctor thinks, I huffed.

Doctors! he said. Always doing unnecessary tests. Oh, and I recommend taking some turmeric for that inflammation in your neck and spine.

This went on and on.

I stayed with Ray longer than I should have, telling myself that he meant well, that everything he said, he said from a place of love.

Until the evening he hid an engagement ring in my dessert.

Not expecting it, I swallowed the ring, and then witnessed the great pleasure Ray took in watching it work its way through my system. As though it were a drama on television. As though I were a mere spectacle for his amusement. He even made popcorn.

Enough! I said.

And as soon as I could, I returned the ring to him.