"The, 'I'm really tired, I can't."
"Perfume? Lipstick stains?" asked Madame Daeng.
"Who can afford perfume and lipstick in this day and age? And you don't need forensic evidence, Madame Daeng. You know when your man's drifting away." ?
Later that night, once Siri had slammed the door of Civilai's cream Citroen, reminded him to turn on the headlights, and sent him floating off home, he showered, cleaned his teeth and joined Daeng in their room. She was sitting on the foot of the bed brushing her hair without a recognisable aim or outcome.
"How did it go?" he asked.
Daeng was silent. "The talk?" he reminded her.
She turned her head towards him and stared into his river-frog green eyes.
"He's having an affair, Siri."
Siri laughed.
"He is not," he said.
"Either that or he's having a mental breakdown, because only a man out of his mind would exhibit all the signs of having an affair if he wasn't actually having one."
"Daeng, you were supposed to put her mind at ease. Not join her."
"I'm not sure any more."
"Why not? You know Phosy. He's married to Dtui and to his job. How on earth is he going to find any extramarital time between those two?"
"You have to ask him, Siri."
"Ask him if he's fooling around?"
"Ask him straight out. You'd recognise if he was lying."
"It's ridiculous."
"Please."
He sighed. "All right."
She sniffed at the fine hair on his cheek.
"Thank you," she said. "It's the penalty you pay for having a perfect partner who causes you no strife. You have to do all your suffering through other people's relationships."
"I suppose."
"Any gossip from increasingly cantankerous Civilai?"
"Ah, right."
"What is it?"
"I might be popping over to Cambodia for a day or two."