“Yes, and I’ve always suspected that the water rock may be older than our solar system. But again, due to the small size of the stone, I might be able to date it at the cost of its annihilation.”

“BIG BIRDS.” Birdie points at the flooded field. I look where she’s facing but don’t see any birds.

“BRAGGY.” Birdie points in the other direction.

“Birdie, what are you doing up there? ROCKin’ and rollin’?” Braggy booms.

“No, Braggy,” Birdie says from her perch on top of the rock. “BIG BIRDS.”

“I came down to say hello to the man from New York City they were all talking about up on the hill. You’ve come a long way. How far is New York City from here?” Braggy asks Dr. Morgan.

“Approximately six hundred and ten miles,” the curator answers.

Miles Morgan’s thin dress pants are wet from kneeling by the water, and his shiny leather shoes are muddy. A gold button on his jacket dangles by a thread.

“I’ve been to Florida,” Braggy continues. “Everglades City. One thousand nine hundred fifty miles. Approximately. My son lives down there. He never liked the cold. I don’t mind the cold—or the heat. He wants me to come in the winter but I go in the summer. That’s when you get TRIPLE-digit temperatures. Have you ever been to Florida?”

“Yes, I once observed a shuttle launch at Cape Canaveral. But that is not as far south as the Everglades. Very pleased to meet you. Your nephew remarked on your lofty residence.”

“It’s the only three-story house in Lowington. And I’m thinking of adding a widow’s walk on the roof, now that I have a water view.” Braggy studies Miles Morgan. “You’re sure dressed like you’re from Florida, and you’ve come a long way to see a rock. What do you think? Is Henry’s boulder the real thing?”

I watch Dr. Morgan, wondering if he’ll answer Braggy’s questions, ask him a question of his own, or tell a story. Birdie watches, too, from her lookout on top of the rock, the red tie hanging down over her coat.

“Every day at the museum, packages arrive in the post, with rocks people think might be meteorites. My team has to determine which are meteorites and which are meteorwrongs. That’s our little joke! Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, they are nothing more than an unusual river cobble, or a piece of hematite stone, which also attracts a magnet. One time someone even showed up at the museum with a rusted cannonball.”

Miles Morgan clasps his hands together in front of him like he did at the house.