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

I did not cry this time.

The October clearance display was visible in the window behind them.

The pumpkin cutout had gone up weeks before my birthday.

“He knew him,” I said.

Frank leaned closer without touching the picture.

“Yes.”

“He said he didn’t.”

“Yes.”