PART 1
The envelope arrived on a Tuesday morning in October, slipped beneath my apartment door while I was asleep. My name was written on cream-colored paper in handwriting I did not recognize, but the return address made my stomach tighten: Riverside Memorial Hospital. Inside was a short note that shattered the careful distance I had built from my past. “Mr. Davidson, your ex-wife Rebecca listed you as her emergency contact. She has been admitted and is asking for you.”
