“On My 62nd Birthday, A Stranger Bought Me Dessert With A Candle. I Woke Up Alone To A Photograph Of Myself Asleep, And A Note: ‘Forgive Me For What I Did Afterward.’ Then I Found My Safe Empty, And A Second Photograph On My Table: The Stranger Standing Beside My Own Son. On The Back: ‘Your Son Arranged All Of This.’”

to forgive me. I took the job because I was broke, and I told myself it was harmless. Then you talked about your husband, and about how nobody had remembered your birthday, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That’s why I wrote ‘forgive me.’ I decided that morning I couldn’t go through with it.” He pushed a canvas bag across the table. My mother’s continue reading …