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When Kire was seven years old, his mother took him to Prince Edward Island for a family wedding. While the party was going on, he wandered off and went toward the apple orchard nearby, where he had seen a well when he first arrived at the island three days before. The well had a shed above it, and a wall of rough stones surrounded it up to his knees. There was a blue cup hanging from a cord tied to the shed. The cup had a red rose with one green leaf on its side and a small dent on the rim.
Seven-year-old Kire, wearing a black suit, starched white shirt with a collar that covered his neck entirely, and a red bow tie that was definitely too big, leaned forward and peered into the black waters of the well. The inside of the well was as rough as the outside; the stones used looked as tho
