A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son
I turned the bag upside down and shook it over the white duvet.
The brass key was gone.
Daniel had put a telephone number into my phone the night before.
I called it.
A recorded message told me it was no longer in service.
I tried again, then typed the digits myself, as if the way I selected them could change what answered.
It didn’t.
I sat on the bed holding the phone.