“What are you doin’, man?” Scott’s voice came from the doorway.
I turned and smiled. “Just thinking.”
“You seem a little brighter.”
“Actually, I was thinking about how I ended up thirty-six, divorced, and trapped in cubicle hell.”
He walked to the coffeepot and poured a mug full then leaned against the counter. “You were a workaholic?” he offered.
“That’s not why Elizabeth was unfaithful. She fell right into Brad’s skinny arms, and he works more than I do. Hell, Elizabeth works more than I do.”
“Why are you dwelling on the past? Look at you. You’re tall. You have hair. And it looks like”—he waved his hand around at my stomach—“you might have abs?”
“You checking me out?”
“I’d kill for a head of hair like that.”
Scott was the kind of guy who was bald by twenty-two. He’s been shaving it Mr. Clean–style since then.
“What do women call that thing?” He pointed to the back of my head.
“A bun?”
“No, there’s, like, a sexier name for it. The ladies love that shit.”
“They call it a man-bun.”
―
Renee Carlino,
Before We Were Strangers