Paul slammed the manuscript down on Ilene’s glass table.
“Hey pal! You know how much I paid for this?” The wealthy old actress inspected it for damage. In truth, she had paid nothing for it, but it was an expensive gift.
“A year of my life, wasted,” said Paul. “Your family, where you grew up, your education, lies, all of it.”
“Don’t be silly, Paul.” She smiled; the memories were crystal clear in her mind.
The biographer left the manuscript. Ilene watched as a crack emerged beneath it, splitting and fracturing the glass.