Whoa, this was a relatively quick update, huh? Okay, so this chapter does not feature Hermes. I will tell you that now. Instead, it focuses on Lucy and her daily life. Here you go!

Click.

The shutter went off and the bird flew away. Lucy looked up from the lens and watched it disappear. She smiled, shook her head, and stood. Wandering through the park, she snapped more shots for her assignment. She had her headphones in and music would occasionally distract her. She would close her eyes and imagine the fingers running along the piano keys.

People walking past her would glance at her, take in her antique camera, less than new clothing, and headphones and realize that she was just another artist in the diverse culture of New York. Of course, Lucy did not ever see the people, except for contemplating if they would make a good subject. Her absolute focus when she was creating her work was one of the reasons Berkley had been interested in her all those years ago.

Her rumbling stomach brought her out of her reverie. She laughed and headed toward the café.

The bell chimed and Marley looked up. She smiled at the short girl walking into the shop. She wasn't looking up, her attention focused on packing her camera away. By the time she got to the counter, she straightened and grinned at the motherly figure behind it. "Hey Marley."

"Hi honey." She beckoned the girl to duck under the counter and join her. "I haven't seen you in awhile. How are you?"

The girl sat on a stool and leaned her head against the glass case. "I'm fine."

Marley watched her, concerned. "How are you recove—"

Before she could finish her question, a man walked up to the counter. "I'd like a slice of pound cake and a coffee. Black."

Marley completed the order and saw the customer off, a welcoming smile on her face, before turning back to the girl she viewed as her daughter. The smile faded. Marley could see the answer to her unfinished question on the girl's face. She was pale, dark circles under her eyes. Her head was resting against the glass case as if she had little energy to spend. Marley had heard that the year after was the hardest part, but she had seemed to be recovering so well…and now suddenly she was back to the way she was right before—

"Marley?" Lucy's quiet question interrupted her train of thought.

"Yes?"

"Would you…If I asked your advice on something, would you promise to not tell anyone? Not a soul?"

She frowned. "Of course. But what do you need?"

Lucy glanced around the shop uneasily before leaning in towards Marley. "If someone you…knew was, er, better off than you, and they kept giving you things, things that you couldn't reciprocate, what would you do?"

Marley's frown deepened. She was clearly referring to that boy she's brought in here that day several months ago, the one who'd smiled so charmingly. She knew from Lucy's friend Jen that she was still seeing him.

Lucy sighed. "I feel so guilty, Marley. Like I'm stealing." For some reason, her words made the girl chuckle.

Marley simply watched the girl, unable to offer any advice. Marley had never been doted on as the girl was obviously being.

"Have some lunch, honey." Marley was a firm believer in food as a therapeutic release.

"I'm not really hungry—"

Ignoring the protests, she shoved a plate heaping with baked goods in front of the girl. Her eyes widened and she looked up at Marley with worry etched on her face.

"I can't—my paycheck doesn't come for two weeks, Marley."

The woman shrugged it off. "What's the fun in being the manager if you can't give away free food every so often?"

"Really Marley—"

"Just eat it, honey."

Defeated, Lucy began nibbling on the food, the worry still clear in her expression. Marley sighed.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll pound on your door in the middle of the night in two weeks demanding the money."

Lucy cracked a smile at the woman's completely false promise. Marley grinned in exasperation at the young woman. Lucy was incredibly stubborn, but not even she could pass up Marley's cooking.

She sat and chatted with Marley for an hour before excusing herself.

She caught a bus, standing in the aisle engrossed in a book. An elderly man sitting in the seat in front of her smiled gently at the young woman so intent on reading her novel. He watched as she looked up suddenly, as if only just realizing it was at her stop that the bus had chosen to groan to a halt. Pushing the worn paperback into her bag, the girl exited the bus and hurried up the stairs of a building sandwiched between two others. She navigated the halls till she found her destination. A red light shined as the door swung shut. Darkroom in use.

She immediately felt the presence of another person. "Hello?"

"Hey Lucy," said a familiar voice. As her eyes began to adjust to the amber light, she recognized the other user of the darkroom.

"Poppy!"

The two girls hugged quickly, Poppy holding her chemical-covered hands away from her classmate.

"I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Working on the project," Lucy explained as she set up her station.

"Have you finished now?"

"Other than developing this roll and the pictures, yeah."

"I just have to enlarge the pictures."

The two girls worked in companionable silence as they both counted seconds and rotations. Poppy knew her friend loved the darkroom, the order and routine that the developing process required. It was usually silent, only hushed whispers of classmates asking the time or whether to increase the aperture. In class, Lucy had always been quieter, so none of the students expected much from her until their first project was showcased. The assignment had been one picture, a single picture. The inspiration: home. Lucy's picture had been a stark black and white of a plush chair framed in a window. The light threw shadows over the chair, looking as if a ghost resided in the piece of furniture. Their teacher had praised her photograph for its "severe look into the lonely aspect of home life." The other students had merely watched the quiet girl, wondering what else she was hiding.

"You excited, Poppy?" Lucy's soft voice broke the silence.

"Of course!" Poppy and Lucy were more than classmates; they both worked at the Museum of Modern Art. They had been eagerly awaiting the notable exhibit for quite some time. The Classical Arts Exhibit was always a popular one for the museum; one of the few times the museum showed art other than the modern style for which it was named. "Do you think Harvey will yell at us again?"

"Next time do not run full speed at priceless artifacts," the two girls chorused, falling into giggles.

"It's not my fault the floor was so slippery," Lucy grumbled. Poppy nearly fell over laughing at the memory of Lucy skidding across the hall, just missing the grumpy curator.

"Since we'll actually be at the opening night, perhaps you should wear shoes with better traction?"

Lucy snorted. "Then how will Harvey get the lovely opportunity of yelling at me?"

"I'm sure you can think of ways," Poppy said with a wink. Lucy rolled her eyes and walked out of the darkroom.

Poppy joined the girl momentarily. She was holding her film above her head, scanning the pictures. Evidently satisfied, she busied herself with cutting and placing the negatives into the clear plastic sleeve. The girl glanced over at her friend.

"Can I see your picture?"

Poppy held out the photo shyly. It portrayed a baby looking over a woman's shoulder. The baby had a large smile and one of its hands pressed into its mouth. Lucy smiled at the picture.

"It's great." Poppy noticed a tinge of sadness in her classmate's words. "I really love it, Poppy."

After the development of more pictures and the inevitable jokes, Lucy waved goodbye to her classmate, who laughingly reminded her about the shoes.

The girl elected to walk home, forgoing the bus when she saw how cramped the commuters were. She popped her headphones in her ears and started the music where she'd left off that morning. She wandered, lost in thought, until she noticed the darkening twilight. Lucy set off for her apartment quickly, always slightly wary at night of the city she called her home.

A call made her jump. "Lucy!"

She scanned the area and broke into a relieved smile when she saw who called her. Jen was running towards her, dressing in a tank top and running shorts. She stopped when she neared her friend.

"I haven't seen you in forever, Luce!" She gave the girl a crushing hug, paying no heed to her protests.

"Really, Jen, it's been two weeks."

The blonde grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, but still."

"Let me guess. Ran out of cookies?"

She blushed. "The second day. I can't help it, they're addicting!"

"Yes," the girl replied seriously. "I use crack in my cookies. I should have told you that earlier."

Jen lightly smacked her friend's arm. "I could believe that."

Lucy laughed tiredly. "I'll make you more as soon as I can, okay?"

With that promise and one last oxygen-deprived hug, Jen and Lucy parted ways.

Once she closed and locked the door, she deposited her bag on the sofa and walked to her small desk. Sitting, she scribbled about her day in the black journal that rested permanently on the table. Then, she looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. A red circle enclosed the date to which she was counting down, the only word being MoMA. She crossed off another day and smiled.

Eight days.

So, remember the other chapter where I told you the story was halfway through? I lied. I was making a chapter outline today and discovered that this story will not be completed for a while. As of now, it's only (if the outline remains accurate) about a quarter of the way done. If you want more details, go to the story's blog, visit-the-moon. tumblr. com.

Also, the poll is still up. (It's being continued on my story blog, backstorys. wordpress. com, so vote while you can!) To drink or not to drink?