I don't think about what it will be like to say good-bye. I don't ask about her leaving. I don't think about how sad I'll be without her, or say I'll miss her or how life will be a perfect graveyard without her living next door for the rest of our lives...Lucy's eyes, deep and blue and flecked with light from dancing disco stars hanging from the ceiling, remind me of the sky, but also of water. I've never been to Maine, but I imagine that the color of the ocean there looks something like Lucy's blue eyes.