He was working. He had papers, the kind he kept arranged in the particular order that was his own private system, that he had explained to no one but that functioned with the precision of something deeply considered. He was working and he looked up when the door opened and he saw Leonard.He saw, a step behind Leonard, a man he did not know.His face did the thing it did when something arrived that required assessment, the careful quick inventory, the specific receiving of the new variable, the particular quality of a person who managed their responses while the assessment ran. He looked at the man. He looked at Leonard.He said: "Leonard."Not a question. The greeting, with the small specific quality that had been in it for weeks, that Leonard had been filing in the category of the things that meant more than they said."There's someone here," Leonard said.He said it plainly. He had thought, in the corridor, about what to say and had concluded that there was nothing to say that woul
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