He sat amid the destruction and said to himself: “Well, that could have been worse.”
Breaking up was certainly hard to do, but in the case of Viviana, it was also expensive. His posters were shredded on the floor; he was going to miss those. There was a hole in his wall with one of his weights hanging out of it. Shards of his mirror littered the floor, scattered among the piles of his less-breakable possessions that she had thrown or upended while raging.
As her screams faded down the block, he collected himself and started picking up the pieces.