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

I thanked her for being careful.

By then, I was beginning to understand how badly I wanted every small detail to become certainty.

I went back upstairs to pack.

My handbag sat beside the writing desk.

Its inner zipper was half open.

I normally kept that compartment shut because it held the small brass key to my bedroom safe.

I emptied the bag onto the bed.

My wallet.