“Hey, I like your shirt. Saw ’em in concert.”

Mitzy gestures to your band tee, then she looks at you in the eyes. You’ve seen her around, never directly talking to her, and here you two are in a thrift store with her starting up a conversation. You just know the vaguest details about her, she drives a hearse, and she apparently likes obscure metal bands.

“We’ve never talked before, have we? I’m Mitzy.”