Miaka reclined amid comfy furnishings; subdued blue tones and the scent of freshly cut lavender whilst listening to an awful middle-aged blonde woman harp on about the poor, precious son. He sat at her side, embarrassed and withered.
He looks about as happy to be here as I am, Miaka thought, trying to keep her feelings about the woman from showing on her face. Vrethie had devised the calming décor of the room to relax and put the customer at ease, for this was the Complaints Department; a department that now fell under Miaka’s jurisdiction. In this line of work, the complaints were many, and the room was not having its intended effect on the wretched old woman.
“All I can do is offer you a complete refund,” Miaka tried to explain to the woman, not for the first time. She shuffled on th
