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

There was nothing.

His silence had been deliberate.

He had left me something that made an ordinary explanation impossible without giving me an explanation of his own.

“Daniel?” I called, although the bathroom door stood open.

The room was empty.

His coat was gone.

So was the little paper slip on which I thought he had written his room number.

Then I noticed my left ear.