There was a knock at the door. It was a small boy, about six years old. He said he was my new neighbor across the street and he introduced himself as Sammy Goldfarb. Something of his had found its way into my garage, he said, and he wanted it back.
Upon opening the garage door, I noticed two additions: a baseball and a broken window sporting a baseball-sized hole.
“How do you suppose this ball got in here?” I asked my newest neighbor.
Taking one look at the ball, one look at the window, and one look at me, Sammy exclaimed, “Wow! I must have thrown it right through that hole!”