the neighbor was welcoming as usual. they made polite conversation while a little ceramic teapot struggled to boil.
a rave new bacteria restaurant had opened downtown. the neighbor thought their secret was straining them through sourdough starter before serving.
whatever it was, the sea monkeys were all over it. tito didn't care enough to form an opinion on it. he had never been the type.
when the neighbor asked tito how his monkey was doing, he didn't have a straight answer to give. maybe he had just fled town on a flight of fancy,
maybe he was smeared across someone's windshield. whatever had happened to him, he and tito didn't have that kind of rapport on a good day,
much less one where he couldn't even be bothered to drag his likely-crippled self home to let tito know in person.

the neighbor quickly realized they suddenly had a lot of time to kill.
turning down the heat on the kettle to get a better steep (likely entirely placebo, but it was grandmother's own little ritual, and these things tend to be genetic), the neighbor asked tito,
"What do you know of basic natures?"
tito replied, "Not much."
continue