“I’m telling you,” Paul said, his eyes following the goldfish as she circled the bowl, “she knows her #name. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh come on,” Greg replied, “how would you even know?”

“Lucille,” Paul said, waving at the glass, “hey, Lucille!”

Years later, and after a few drinks, Greg would swear that goldfish tilted its body and, with a flick of its little fin, waved right back.

“Holy shit,” he said, astonished. “We gotta tell Rich about this!”