Leonard used to consider Lila to be the love of his life. That was back in the ’70s, long before he had a family of his own and the responsibilities he does now. But he still held onto the Polaroid photos of their youthful adventures and proudly displayed them on his desk.
But one night, as Leonard recalled his stories of Lila to his daughter Clara, she leaned in closer, her eyes widening in astonishment. “Dad,” she whispered, “there’s something strangely familiar about this woman…”