Soon after we got up this morning, I walk to a window in my beloved’s apartment to check the weather. It is raining out there, and I look toward the low clouds. The temperature is dropping, and snow is expected later in the day. And then I notice a man standing in the doorway of a restaurant across and some way down the street. Short and bald, he sports an enormous belly. Wearing a black jacket and black pants, he also wears a white shirt that accentuates the amazing bulge. “Gosh,” I mumble to my beloved who is sipping her morning coffee in the adjoining room, “you should see this fatso!” She does not get up from her chair, but she guesses that he is a cook at the restaurant. “He got this fat from tasting the food all the time,” she adds. Looking at him from two stories above, I cannot tear my eyes from him. “The only reason he got this fat,” I mumble again, “is that I could marvel at his belly on this rainy morning from high above.” My beloved chuckles, but she keeps quiet. The funny thing is that I remain convinced of my explanation of the fellow’s stunning shape. Feeling like a contemptuous god comes naturally to me.