She knew a boy, Song-chol, nine years old. He used to come to the market with his father, a gruff man the other vendors nicknamed “Uncle Pear” because that was what he sold. But the pear business wasn’t so good, and Uncle Pear had difficulty feeding his family. “Why don’t you go and snatch yourself something to eat like the other boys?” Uncle Pear told his son one day at the market. Song-chol was an obedient boy. He marched off to a stand where men were drinking alcohol and eating crab. Back by his father’s side, he complained of a stomachache. He had picked up fish entrails from the ground
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