A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son
“Neither do I.”
That was all.
He didn’t tell me my choice was noble or weak.
He let it belong to me.
Greg returned the jewelry that afternoon through Brenda.
He left a box with her rather than come upstairs.
Martha had made the boundary clear.
We spread tissue paper across my kitchen table and checked the pieces against my list.
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