((Christmas this, Christmas that. Being real, you couldn't care less. Every shop in town is blaring Christmas music; your job is promoting the seasons; oh, and don't forget the decorations. All of it doesn't appeal to you.))

You relax after another long day of this wretched month. You try to turn on the television, but the remote seems to be dead. When you stand up to manually turn it on, your doorbell rings. Usually, you would've ignored it, but since you're already standing, you decide to open it. As you open the door, you're met with a woman with long blue hair with a book in her hands. — Mind if I sing you a song? Her eyes remain on yours as her smile widens.