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

The one I had saved from the hotel lay in my drawer.

Its mate had not been returned.

“Greg says Daniel kept it,” Brenda said.

“He may have.”

“I can ask again.”

“No.”

I picked up the single earring and laid it on the tissue.

“A piece of silver isn’t worth another phone call to him.”