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Tristiana smiled sweetly as the Complexitor leaned in to hear her. “He’s listening to me,” she exulted in her thoughts, “and I didn’t even have to mystify him!” She had thought about their similarities for some time, and so the words rolled off her lips like a slick marketing presentation.

“We’re both fashionable souls,” she said, wrapping a curl around her finger. Without noticing his instinctive shudder, she continued, “But wait, there’s more! No pets, annoying family members, divorced.” She raised a hand to her left eye and made a sign of crying. “Work is serious, and most importantly, We Do Not Like Them.”

The Complexitor leaned backwards, thinking. “You have a point,” he admitted at last. “We do have a few things in common.”

She clapped her hands together. “That means we should work together!”

The Complexitor spun his head so quickly that his sunglasses dipped down to reveal his shocked, confused blue eyes. He whipped the sunglasses back into position as he fumbled for words. “What?”

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