The Edge of the Water, page 1 of 12

Pip leans over a neat line of pebbles beside a straight-edged leaf and two reeds, with a still pool below him, small and absorbed.

Pip lived at the top of the shore, where things could be counted.

Stones. Reeds. The steps from his door down to the water: forty-one.

He checked the count most mornings. It was usually right.