Addie feels ridiculous, but she leans in close to the tiled wall, and waits, and listens. And then, impossibly, she hears his voice. “Addie.” She startles. The word is soft but clear, as if he’s standing right beside her. “How are you doing this?” she asks the arch. And she can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “The sound follows the curve of the arch. A phenomenon that happens when spaces bend just right. It’s called a whispering gallery.” Addie marvels. Three hundred years, and there are still new things to learn. “Talk to me,” comes the voice against the tile.
