“Okay, let's do it,” he says, voice low but steady.
He takes the paper from Clara and pulls a pen out from his pocket like he had been expecting this moment all along. Calm. Collected. Or so I thought. He sits down at the edge of the cream leather couch, paper balanced on his thigh, eyes scanning it quickly. But then, in a swift movement that startles even Clara, he bolts upright. The paper slips from his hand and flutters to the ground like a bird with broken wings.
“I’m not signing this piece of s**t. I’m not doing that,” he says, voice rising as he jabs a finger toward the paper that Clara now hurriedly picks up.
I freeze, stunned by his sudden outburst.
“Can we talk privately?” I ask, my voice soft but trembling.
Before Leonard can respond, Clara turns to him with a pained look in
