My Three-Year-Old Called Me From Inside A Wall During A Party For A Hundred And Eleven People. My Wife Said It Was Just A Joke
A work of fiction. The characters and events are invented; any resemblance to real people is coincidental.
Lorenzo Marchetti's house had one hundred and forty rooms and nine holes in its east wall that his grandfather had cut in six weeks in 1943 and that nobody had told him about. On the night of the autumn party, with a hundred and eleven guests on the ballroom marble, he heard his three-year-old daughter calling him from inside one of them. His wife of fourteen months looked at the dust on the child's dress, and then at what he picked up off the floor of the cavity, and said the wrong thing about which of the two mattered.
Contents
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