Lucy could bend even the smallest rays of light to her will. She created her own humidity, burrowed deep, and made dormant things grow. Her only enemies were tedium and despair. Lucy picked ruthless fights, played the princess, and slept like the dead. Sometimes we made love atop mounds of clean laundry. Lucy refracted. She diffused, scattered, and multiplied. I simply reflected. She charmed breezes and coaxed gentle rains, tamed the sun with gelato and laughter and lemonade. She stained the leaves, directed their flight, then cushioned their fall. I just threw snowballs of insecurity and eventually doused her flame.