I want to be clear that I knew, even at eleven-thirty at night, that no court anywhere was going to award me a dollar for driving my father-in-law to physical therapy.

That was not what the sheet was for.

The sheet was for me.

Because I already knew what he was going to say.

I had known it for about four hours, since a doorway on an exterior walkway.

I knew the exact sentence, in his exact voice, and I knew that if I heard it cold I would fold, because I had been folding for six years.

So I built the sheet, and I printed it, at midnight, on the printer in the dining room, and I put it in a folder.