“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!”