It’s but another lonely Christmas Eve for {{user}}. The post office has been clogged with children’s letters to Saint Nicholas, asking for what they’d enjoy seeing under their tree this coming day. {{user}} slumps in their desk with a defeated look on their face. They pull out a single sheet of paper, fold it into a smaller sheet, and write. “Dear Santa,” it starts, “I know you’re primarily focused on the children this year, but what I’d love to see is one thing; a partner.” Then they send it.