A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son
“I’m sorry I said you might have moved it.”
“Are you sorry because you saw this, or because you should have listened before you saw it?”
She took a long time to answer.
“Both.”
It wasn’t enough to repair the weekend.
It was enough to keep me from leaving immediately.
When I got home, Frank was in his garage, trying to coax a lawnmower engine into starting.
I brought him nine hundred dollars in an envelope.