crème glacée [the fate of coincidences 1]

9: Glen

Friday nights had long since stopped being fun for Glen. Every now and then, Ella and Zack would try to drag out to hang out with some of their other friends, but he never liked socializing much.

He was finished with all the work that needed to be done for the time being, so he left home early for once.

His condo felt quiet and empty, so he put on the ABBA Gold vinyl and went about making spaghetti for dinner. He sang "Money, Money, Money" in the shower. By the time "Thank You for the Music" came on, he was in sweatpants and a white shirt, trying not to cry into his noodles.

When he was in elementary and middle school, he used to come over to his grandma's townhouse in Greenwich Village after school with Ella and Zack in tow. His grandma would play ABBA on repeat until the three of them knew every word to every song. They could never properly study because Ella always had to dance whenever "Dancing Queen" came on and of course Glen and Zack always had to join. Those were the simpler times, when all their problems consisted of studying for the next test, and in Ella's case, dealing with her mom's constant weddings and divorces. It felt like that Glen was from a completely different lifetime.

Now, he was managing a whole company at twenty-five, with literally every business executive and investor trying to control him or take him out. He barely saw his friends outside of work anymore. It was a pretty lonely place, and the whole Vendi ordeal made it worse. He knew she didn't love him from the start, that the only reason she suggested this marriage was because it would be beneficial for both of their businesses. And Glen agreed to the marriage, because maybe, just maybe, if they lived in the same house and shared a room and saw each other every day, maybe she would eventually come to care for him somehow. He never told her how he felt about her because he was doubting it, too, crediting loneliness. But the way she broke it off was a bigger pang than he expected it to be. Maybe he was a little jealous because she didn't even break up with him because she didn't love him. She broke up with him because some other guy had the ability to make her cry. It wasn't about him.

What a pathetic life he was living. He stared into the half-empty plate of spaghetti, the only food he knew how to make, as the rain beat against the windows and the last beats of "Waterloo," the last song on the album, faded. Seattle was such a sad city, why did he even move here all the way from New York, he wondered. It just rained here every season.

With a sigh he got up from the couch and put the rest of the pasta away into the fridge. After making himself a cup of mint tea, he took out his work briefcase and started on more paperwork. Paperwork was always eternal in the business world.

Eventually he fell asleep, body strewn over the couch, face covered in lists of investors and the costs of making lipstick at different labs.