Daniel stared at the pen.

The glass table reflected his pale face, his unkempt hair, and the dark circles under his eyes.

He looked like a stranger to me.

“This is everything,” Daniel said, his hand shaking as he picked up the pen.

“It is what is owed,” I said.

He looked at me one last time, searching my face for any sign of hesitation.

I gave him nothing.

He lowered the pen to the paper.

The scratching sound of his signature on the heavy bond paper was the only noise in the room for several seconds.

He signed his name on three separate pages, transferring his life’s work away with a few strokes of ink.

Arthur watched him closely, checking each signature as Daniel finished.

“Now the liquidation agreement,” Arthur said, sliding the second document forward.

Daniel did not hesitate this time.

He signed that one too, his movements mechanical, his spirit completely broken.

Miller took the pen from his hand and signed as the witness.

Arthur gathered the documents, tapping them against the table to align the edges.