A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son
“Then discuss what actually happened.”
He set his fork down.
I took the brown envelope from my handbag.
Inside were copies, not originals: the picture from the alley, the photograph of him and Daniel, the relevant financial pages Martha had obtained, and the disputed application with my imitation signature.
I placed them on the clear end of the table.
Greg looked first at the picture beneath the green awning.
“We met through business,” he said.
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