I slept with a stranger on my 62nd birthday, and the next morning I woke up alone and saw an envelope on the nightstand. What was inside made me regret that night.
That day, I turned sixty-two. I woke up early and immediately checked my phone, expecting to see messages from my children, relatives, or at least some old friends.
But the screen was empty.
An hour passed, then another. By lunchtime, no one had remembered my birthday. My daughter was busy with her own family, my son lived in another city, and after my husband died, I had almost stopped seeing my friends altogether.
I sat alone in the kitchen in front of a small cake I had bought for myself the day before, and suddenly realized I didn’t want to spend the day at home.
I put on my favorite green dress, styled my hair, took out a pair of earrings that had been sitting in my jewelry box for years, and went into the city.
For just one evening, I wanted to feel like an ordinary woman again instead of a lonely retiree.
Not far from downtown, I spotted a small bar and decided to go inside. Soft music was playing, groups of people sat around the tables, and I chose a seat in the corner and ordered a glass of red wine.
That was where I noticed a man.
He looked about forty. He was well dressed and glanced in my direction several times before unexpectedly walking over.
“May I join you?”
I smiled.
“If you don’t mind sitting with a woman who could easily be your mother.”
He laughed and sat across from me.
His name was Daniel. He said he worked as a photographer, traveled a lot, and had only returned from a long trip the day before. We talked for almost two hours.
He asked questions, listened to my stories, and kept telling me that I didn’t look my age at all.
Maybe that was exactly what I had been missing.
At some point, I admitted that it was my birthday.
Daniel looked surprised, called over the waiter, and ordered a dessert with a candle.
“You shouldn’t end your birthday alone,” he said.
After leaving the bar, we walked around the city for a long time. Then he offered to walk me back to the hotel where I had decided to spend the night so I wouldn’t have to return home so late.
What happened next was something I had no intention of telling anyone.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to forget about my age, my children, my neighbors, and what other people might think.
But the next morning, everything changed.
I woke to bright sunlight and instinctively turned toward the other side of the bed.
Daniel was gone. At first, I assumed he had gone out to get coffee, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen either.
Then I noticed a white envelope on the nightstand.
When I opened it and saw what my new acquaintance had left inside, I deeply regretted that night.
I told the rest of my story in the first comment.
