A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son

He held a menu as though being temporarily without a table was a minor inconvenience he would never dream of making anyone else’s problem.

“I would wait at the bar, but the stools are all taken.

Would you mind some company?”

I looked at the empty chair.

“Please, sit down.”

“I am Daniel.”

“Irene.”

He folded his coat over the chair and smiled at me.