Birth Notice

“There’s a lady at the door, Grandma.”

The telephone was screwed to the wall. I pulled its twisty cord, as far as I could, to see who the three-year-old had been talking to.


Hospital hold music played Opus Number One.

“The lady said there’s something wrong with Mommy’s baby.”  

I dropped the phone and ran.

But when I opened the door, nothing was there.