An hour later when the projector went off and the lights came up, signaling the start of intermission before the Q & A portion of the conference began, I slipped a square of paper into his hands. “A few questions I thought of for you,” I said. He unfolded it, reading while absently shaking his head in confoundment. “You did this for me?” “You say it like no one does anything nice for you.” It was just a few questions. The idea was absurd. He had drivers and assistants and chefs and maids. Lovers, I was sure. Anything he wanted could be obtained with a beckoned call from him. “It’s not the
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