Jacqueline descends the curved concrete staircase to the foyer below. She appears to be around thirty years old, somewhat tall, and quite fit. Her hair is dyed platinum silver, and she’s tying the short bob up into a ponytail. Black, square-rimmed glasses accentuate her narrow heart-shaped jawline, and frame her icy blue eyes. She’s wearing a jogging outfit: light grey t-shirt and knee-length tights, and trainers that are light grey and white with neon-pink laces.

    Her assistant greets her below. “Good morning Miss Jacqueline,” Marlee says. She’s somewhere in her twenties and her voice is soft and quick. Her features suggest a mix of middle-eastern and south-asian heritage: dark almond eyes, prominent nose, and light olive skin. Her hair is done up in a pompadour, and her glasses are narrow and rectangular with green frames. She's wearing a black pinstripe suit and skirt over a grey blouse and stockings, and stiletto snakeskin pumps with buckles. Under one arm is a tablet.

    She says: “The security system has been successfully installed. Our bio signatures and all the staffs’ and regular guests’ have been entered into the system and won’t be affected. I can access the list from my tablet, and this remote will turn the system on and off. It’s calibrated to affect animals that may be harmful as well.”

    “Good,” Jacqueline says. Somehow everything about Jacqueline seems to fit perfectly with the house, or the house with her: sleek and modern. The house has stained-black cement flooring, ceiling-to-floor windows, and cold grey decor. She stands with her hands on her hips and looks through the large windows, out across the acres of lawn and garden surrounding her house. “Who is that man?” she says.

    In the distance, a man in overalls and a white hat is on his hands and knees below a large rhododendron.

    “Um,” Marlee says, flicking through her tablet. “I believe that is one Mr. Campbell. He’s, kind of a leftover from the former neighborhood. He used to do gardening pro-bono throughout the block before you bought the subdivision and demolished it-”

    “Almost all of it.”

    “-Yes. Our gardeners tolerate him; they say he does the job well.”

    “So he’s not on the payroll?” It’s apparent Jacqueline has a high-class english accent. Her voice is deep but sharp.

    “No Miss.”

    Jacqueline stares into the distance at a lone house by the road, completely surrounded by her lawn and property. “Has this been tested?” Jacqueline says, hefting the remote.

***

    On the outside, Jacqueline’s summer mansion is a modern, angular, three stories of wide, stacked platforms and glass, airy yet compact. It stands, black and grey, on the top of a hill surrounded by newly laid sod, rocky outcroppings and copses of red oak and sugar maple. From the top of the hill is a breathtaking view of the surrounding Ontario landscape. Part of the city lies in a shallow valley below, the river winding through it, and in the distance are low mountains.

    A morning breeze stirs Jacqueline’s hair as she walks down her driveway. Marlee’s heels click behind her. The sky is crisp and blue and chikadees flutter overhead.

    “You there,” Jacqueline calls to the man, “Come here please.”

    Mr. Campbell turns and gets to his feet stiffly. He looks to be somewhere in seventies, short, with a bulbous nose and wispy white hair. He shuffles over onto the driveway and gives them a grin. His clothes are ripped and dirty, and he holds a pair of sheers in one hand. “Hello,” he says. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

    “I understand you’re not an employee here, Mr. Campbell?” Jacqueline says.

    “That’s right. I’m here pro-bono,” he says proudly. ”I apologize. You see, I used to live down the block. Third house on the left. And I used to do everybody’s garden. After my wife died, it’s all I had left to do. I don’t have any other family. Not really. The boys all caught the shrinking virus and the girls just come around the retirement home now and ask for my money. It was very generous of you to buy all these houses for so much money, but I almost regret selling mine now, no offense to you. I don’t like the retirement home. It’s god-awful there, theres nothing to do and the nurses treat you like children and you can’t even go out in the garden without supervision. I like it here. That’s why I always come back and do the gardening, even if its not the same as it used to be. You’ve done a wonderful job landscaping here.”

    “Well thank you Mr. Cambell,” Jacqueline says, “that’s very sweet of you. Now-”

    “Please don’t make me go,” he says. He wrings his hands together and looks at her like an old dog. “Please.”

    Jacqueline laughs. “On the contrary Mr. Cambell, I need you to stay right where you are.” She looks at the remote in her hand.

    “Right here?” he says, pointing at the driveway in confusion.

    “Yep, right there please, thank you.” Jacqueline presses a button on the remote.

    Something in the air crackles and hums. Suddenly Mr. Campbell jerks and clutches at himself, groaning in pain, and starts to shrink. His sheers clatter to the ground and his clothes pool around him. In a few moments he’s gone.

    “Well,” Jacqueline says, stepping over to the puddle of clothes. “I’d say the security works quite well.” She prods the clothes with her trainer, tossing them over until she sees the tiny little old man. He’s half an inch tall, pink and naked like a worm. “Ah. There you are,” she says. “Thank you for your work, but we won’t be needing you anymore. You’ve done an excellent job as my test subject so far though. Only one more thing for you…” She lifts her foot over the little man.

    The trembling and terrified Mr. Campbell sees every tread, groove and crevasse of the rubber sole as it comes down on him slowly, blocking everything else from view. His bladder leaks uncontrollably and he wails, until the last second of his life.

    Jacqueline catches none of this, only the tiny crunching noise that greets her as her shoe presses to the pavement. She grinds her foot a bit, and then steps off. There’s a little wet spot the size of a quarter on her driveway with a few gristly bits. She wipes her shoe off on the discarded clothing, leaving a little blob of flattened meat in the folds, and some blood.

    She hands the remote to Marlee, but she’s staring at the lone house down the road again. It's a small, hand-built old two-story home from the fifties. It has a gabled black roof and faded green wood paneling with chipped white trim.

    “I forgot to mention, make sure his family doesn’t get any of his money,” she says. “It’s the least we can do. Now, I’m going for that run.”

Chapter 1    

     Damien folds the yellow, stained bandages into a ball and drops them in a garbage bag, along with cotton swabs reeking of disinfectant. He washes his hands in the chipped porcelain sink of his father's bathroom. He sighs deeply, but quietly, and leans against the sink. After a few moments he looks up into the mirror. He sees a thirty-five year old man with bags under his eyes and sunken cheeks. He stares into pale blue eyes for some time.

    Eventually he runs a hand through his sandy-colored hair, takes a breath, and opens the door. Entering his father’s room, he gives his dad a brief smile and tugs the light blanket over the stitched-up stumps of his father’s legs.

    His father is bald, heavy set, and his flesh is starting to sag. He’s over fifty years old. “You know,” he says, “As a middle-aged man working in a warehouse, in a time where millions of people -mostly males- are shrinking off the face of the earth and robots are taking our places in the workshop, I was so lucky to still have a job at all. And then this happens. Why did I have to be a warehouse worker, son? Why did I have to pick such a dangerous job in such a time? Was it just my horrible luck?”

    Damien sighs and smiles sadly. "D'you need anything?"

    His father stares out the window of his second-floor bedroom. Thin, white curtains hang limply as the sun starts to set. He turns to his son. "No. No I'll be fine. Thanks."

    Damien nods, and leaves.

    He goes to stuff the bag into the garbage can out back, but it's full. He waves flies out of his face and looks at the backyard. The grass is long.

Chapter 2

   Damien stretches his back and wipes sweat from his brow. The afternoon sun beats down upon the new fence. It's crude, made of salvaged wood and chicken wire. He grabs the bag of nails and walks over to Pepsi. The dark brown, lab-collie cross paces side to side, straining slightly against her rope, panting eagerly. Damien puts the nails down and unties the rope from her collar. "There you go girl," he says. She runs excitedly into the yard and romps around in the tall grass. “Sorry it took so long, but I had to be safe. Now you can play in our yard at least.” Damien shields his eyes from the sun and smiles, watching her. On the other side of the fence, a faint, crackling hum pervades over the acres of trees, garden, and freshly laid green sod. In the distance an automated tractor trundles silently on fat, black tires, watering the new grass. Beyond this sentinel, Jacqueline's mansion looms on the rocky hill.

Chapter 3

    Damien hits the buzzer of the large, metal gate. A young female voice softly answers.

    "Yes?"

    "Um, Damien Reiner to see Miss Jacqueline."

    "Just a moment."

    Damien waits. Then the crackling hum stops, and suddenly the silence feels more oppressive than the static had been. He jumps slightly as the gates clang and swing open slowly on mechanical hinges.

    He makes his way up the driveway to the mansion, taking in the manicured gardens and fabulous view of the countryside. When he gets to the door, he pauses, runs a hand through his hair, and clears his throat. He knocks on the tall, black doors.

    A young woman in a sharp business outfit opens the door. She holds a tablet under one arm. "Mr. Reiner. So glad you could make it."

    "Uh yes, hello again. Marlee right?" Damien says.

    A faint, polite smile crosses her lips. "This way."

***

    The home office, like the rest of the house, is a beautiful contrast of airy, light grey walls and huge windows with the solid, shining black floors and decor. Green, leafy potted trees seem to pop with color.

    The woman behind the thin, black desk doesn’t look up as Damien and Marlee approach. Ice-blue eyes study a silver laptop monitor from behind square rimmed glasses. Her platinum hair is in a chin-length bob, with blunt bangs that meet her eyes. She’s dressed casually in a white blouse and black leggings, her feet bare.

    “Miss Jacqueline,” Marlee says. “Damien Reiner to see you.”

    After a moment, Jacqueline takes off her glasses and looks at them. “Damien. Hello,” she says. “Have a seat.”

    “Hello,” Damien says, seating himself in a black chair by the wall. The chair is comfortable, but lower than expected. He clears his throat. “Nice to finally meet you in person. Your house, everything here is beautiful.”

    “Thank you,” she says. She leans forward and rests her chin on her palm, studying him. “You know why you’re here, do you?” It becomes apparent Jacqueline has an upper-class English accent.

    “Um. You still want to buy my house?”

    “Mhm.” Jacqueline nods slowly.

    Damien sighs. “I’m sorry, but like I said, it’s not for sale at the moment. For personal reasons.”

    Jacqueline continues to stare at him from behind her higher desk.

    “Uh,” Damien continues, adjusting himself in the seat. “It’s, uh, we’re going through a bit of a rough time, my family, and while the money would be good, I think what we really need right now is… stability. Familiarity. Somewhere solid to stand on, If you know what I mean.” He wrings his hands.

    Jacqueline’s gaze doesn’t change. Damien tries to meet her eyes several times but fails.

    “So there’s no convincing you otherwise then?” she says suddenly.

    “Um, no I don’t think s-”

   “All right,” Jacqueline says, returning to her work station. “Good luck over there then. See you later.”

    Damien blinks, and looks around for some cue for what to do. Jacqueline taps her foot idly while clicking away at the computer. Marlee comes up beside him and gestures for him to follow her out, so he rises awkwardly. As he leaves he notices his own house in the distance is easily visible through the window.

Chapter 4

    "Pepsi?" Damien calls. He looks out from his front porch. No sign of her. He whistles and listens for a reply. Nothing. "Pepsi!"

    Then he hears a bark from the backyard. Pepsi doesn’t usually bark. He hurries around the side of his house and sees her wriggling through a gap in the fence where the chicken wire has come unattached.

    "Pepsi! No!" Damien yells, but it’s too late. Pepsi sprints from under the chicken wire out into the big yard beyond, and then it happens - she starts to shrink. She twists around in confusion and yelps as she dwindles away.

    Damien's running, shouting to her. He leaps onto his fence, one leg over and about to hop down, when he chokes in pain and shock, clutching at himself. He starts to shrink. Quickly he twists himself away and falls back into his own lawn. He groans and struggles to get up, but his shirt is too big and he can’t see his own hands past the sleeves for a terrifying second. He trips on his pants which fall down around his ankles. He’s lost almost two full feet of height. He steps out of the heap of clothing that is his pants and underwear, and clutches at his fence. He groans in panicked frustration, staring at the spot in the lawn where Pepsi shrinks out of view. He counts the fenceposts in his head, trying to memorize the spot where she is, and then he’s sprinting down the road to Jacqueline’s driveway in his bare feet and legs, his oversized shirt the only thing covering his genitals.

    At the large wrought iron gate, he hits the buzzer. And waits. Only then does he feel his heart pounding against his chest, realize he's holding his breath. He feels the sweat drip on his brow from the heat reflecting off the pavement. He waits.

    “Yes?” Marlee’s voice buzzes through the com. “Excuse me? I can't understand you,” the voice continues.

    Damien winces and stops babbling. He takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice from trembling. "I’m saying, I need to get inside your gates, my dog got through the fence and now she's shrunk and I need to get her back right now!"

    “Oh. Hold on, Mister Reiner.”

    He holds on. He paces, tugging at his arm hair.

    “Damien, is that you?” Jacqueline's voice says from the com.

    "Yes!" Damien says, lunging at the com.

    “Hold on, I'll be right out. I was about to go for a run anyway.”

    Eventually, finally, he sees her. She walks casually down the driveway in grey athletic clothes, her hair done up in a short ponytail. "Hello Damien," she calls. She looks over the tops of her glasses. “You’re not wearing trousers. Also you look smaller.”

    The gates open, slowly. Damien takes an urgent step forward when Jacqueline holds up her hand.

    "Wait," she says.

    He freezes. Jacqueline holds up a small remote and presses a button. Damien glances around but nothing seems to change. Except the constant, crackling hum in the air stops. "All right," Jacqueline says with a smile and tilts her head. "The security system is off. You can come in now. Don’t worry, you won’t shrink."

    Damien hesitates for a second before taking one shuffling step into the driveway. Then another. Then he breaks into a run across the lawn towards the spot where Pepsi disappeared. When he gets near, he stops suddenly, eyes glued to the grass. Gingerly, he gets down on his hands and knees and starts crawling forward cautiously, scanning the area intently.

    "That's too bad about your pet," Jacqueline says as she strolls up behind him through the grass.

    Damien snaps his hands up, gesturing her to stop. "Be careful!" he says. "She should be around here somewhere." He doesn't take his eyes off the ground.

    Jacqueline stops, and looks at her shoes. As Damien continues to search, she shifts her weight around and holds her hands behind her back. She taps her foot idly and swings it through the grass. "Well," she says, "I'm sure you'll find it. I'm going for that run now, I’ll be back later. Good luck."

***

    It's over an hour when she returns, coming up behind him. Her breathing is deep and steady. Her skin glistens with thin perspiration. Marlee approaches from the house and hands her a fresh white towel. Jacqueline takes it and says to Damien, "Any luck?" as she dabs at her face.

    Damien holds up one finger for silence, cocking his head to the ground.

    Jacqueline raises an eyebrow and glances at Marlee, who only shrugs slightly.

    The man moves slowly across the lawn, his ear inches from the ground.

    Jacqueline tosses the towel back and puts her hands on her hips impatiently.

    Damien looks at the ground in front of him, and then tenderly cups his hands around a spot on the lawn. After a moment he stands, staring into his hands. Slowly he turns and walks up to Jacqueline. She leans forward. There's a tiny brown dog in his hands, barely a quarter of an inch tall.

    She stands straight again. "Congratulations."

    Eventually he looks up into Jacqueline's eyes. "You can help us?" he says.

    "Oh Damien," she says, smiling sadly and shaking her head. "I'm afraid that's all on your shoulders now. Your pet did trespass on my property, and I did warn you about the security when I had it installed. You’re going to have to figure that all out on your own. Go home and find some trousers.” Then she turns and walks off toward her house.

    Damien stares after her, gaping.

Chapter 5

    Damien sits at his dinner table with his head in his hands. One lamp dimly illuminates the kitchen. The old wooden table is spread out with papers: taxes, receipts, calculations. In a small dish amongst it all is Pepsi. She licks at a droplet of water Damien has put in for her. He stares at her with bleary eyes. He gently reaches in a finger to pet her, but stops, just short of her. He can't do it. She's just too fragile, and his hand trembles too much. He puts his hands on his face instead and sighs heavily.

    “I’ll get you back girl,” he whispers. “We have enough money saved up. I’ll get you back to normal on Monday. Things will be tight around here, but… you’re the only thing keeping me sane lately.” He laughs silently, and tries not to sob.

Chapter 6

    Damien drops a handful of diced green peppers into the cast iron frying pan where it crackles in bacon grease. Through the kitchen window he watches Pepsi, full size again, romp around in the dewy grass. “What else?” he asks, chewing a strip of bacon.

    The frying pan had been used for two generations, along with the discolored cutlery, stove, kettle, and everything else in the kitchen. The flower print drapes are the same flower print drapes from Damien’s childhood. The small chandelier above them is thick with dust and the pastel green paint on the walls is starting to flake off, and the wooden cupboards are mostly empty. It still smells like ground coffee though.

    “Onions. Mom always put onions in the omelette,” Paige says. She has the same face as Damien, complete with sunken cheeks and tired eyes. Her sand-colored hair is long and uncombed. She sits slumped at the island table of the kitchen in a loose t-shirt and shorts. Her arms are thin and freckled.

    Damien opens the old fridge and studies its innards. “You’ve lost weight,” he says. “You don’t look so good.”

    “You look as bad as me,” she says. “Maybe worse. Except now you’re smaller than me.”

    His eyes drift upward for a moment, and he sighs quietly. Eventually he opens a drawer in the fridge and pulls out a plastic bag with half an onion inside. He sets it on the table and begins cutting. “Have you had any more… episodes? Since you moved in?” he asks gently.

    Paige sits silently, unmoving. Damien looks at her, but her hair hides her face from his angle. The sound of the knife hitting the chopping board fills the room. It’s in sync with the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. “No,” she says, finally.

    Damien drops the onions into the pan, and then breaks several eggs into a bowl. “No lost time… no waking up in the middle of nowhere with no shoes and no memory?” he says, whisking the eggs.

    “No,” Paige mumbles.

    Damien pours the eggs into the pan and then climbs up onto the stool next to his sister. She’s about a foot and a half taller than him now. He stares out the kitchen window with his hands in his lap.

    “I hate it here,” Paige says quietly.

    Damien looks at her, eyebrows raised slightly. “What?”

    “It’s different now. You know what I mean. Everything.”

    Damien looks out the window again. “Yeah,” he says, sighing. “It must be better than the hospital though, right?”

    Paige doesn’t respond.

    Damien frowns and stands up. He finishes grabs the frying pan and slides some of the omelette out onto a plate in front of Paige. The pan is so heavy to his new form that he has to use both hands to hold it now.

    “Damien,” she says. “Did you cook this in bacon grease?”

    “Isn’t that how mom did it?”

    “Yes. But I’m a vegetarian now, remember?”

Chapter 7

    “Paige?” Damien waits for a reply, but the house is silent tonight, except for the buzzing of the fridge. He goes to Paige’s room and finds the door ajar. Usually it’s closed. He peers inside, but she’s not there. Her room is left in typical state: floor covered almost entirely with piles of clothing, the closet wide open and practically empty. Books and papers are scattered everywhere. Her laptop is open on her bed, blinking at nothing.

    As he goes back through the living room, Damien stops. The front door is also ajar. Moths flutter in the entrance hall around the ceiling light. He hurries to the porch and looks out. After a moment his eyes adjust and, scanning the road, he sees her. “Paige!” he shouts, and runs toward her.

    She’s standing alone in the distance, outside the gates of Jacqueline’s driveway. Her slight form is barely illuminated, but her loose grey sweater stands out in the dark.

    Damien continues to shout her name as he rushes nearer. He slows to a walk when he gets close. She’s wearing black tights, and her green converse high-tops are untied. “Paige,” he says breathlessly, “are you okay? What are you…”

    She stares blankly through the gates, unmoving.

    “Paige? Hey-” Damien says as he reaches up a hand to touch his sister’s shoulder.

    She shrieks in alarm at his touch. Her eyes go wild. “Who are you?” she demands.

    “P-Paige, it’s me! Damien!”

    “Who are you?!” she screams, backing away from the small man.

    “Paige! Please!” Damien says.

    “Get away from me you little freak!” Paige says, and smashes her foot into his face.

    Damien squawks in pain and collapses backward, clutching his nose. He curls up on the pavement. There’s a long moment where Paige simply stands there staring and Damien simply lies on the cool ground, mewling.

    “D...Damien?” Paige says quietly. She steps close to him cautiously. “Oh… fuck…”

    Blood spittling from his lips, Damien gasps. His nose and upper lip are covered in red. Paige kneels beside her brother, and awkwardly puts a hand on his little shoulder. He begins to sob silently, his small body heaving.

   “… Sorry,” Paige says.

   Damien takes a trembling sigh to steady his voice. He stares upward for a moment, lips twitching. An oak tree rustles in the night breeze nearby. “I think I’m going to lose my job,” he says finally.

    “What?”

    “They’re going to replace me with a computer. At the office. ”

    Paige looks away, hiding her expression in the dark. She puts her hand over her mouth. Damien grips her other hand, but she doesn’t turn around.

Chapter 8

    The doorbell buzzes.

    Damien tugs down his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He clears this throat and opens his front door.

    “Jacqueline, hello. Marlee. Please come in,” he says. He holds the door open as the two larger women enter.

    Jacqueline is wearing a shapely grey, thigh-length summer dress. She takes off her large sunglasses and wide-brimmed white summer hat. Her platform pumps thump loudly on the old wooden floor. They’re peep toes, with cream blue floral print and beige soles. “Look, I’ve gotten Marlee to wear something somewhat informal for once.”

    Behind her, Marlee is wearing a simple black pleated dress with a thin belt, and black, strappy, wedge sandals. Her hair is combed over to one side today, allowing for a small grey sunhat which she removes along with clip-on shades. Under one arm as always, is her tablet. The two women tower over him even more in their heels.

    “Oh Damien, whatever happened to your face?” Jacqueline says.

    “Oh, uh,” Damien stutters, impulsively touching the bandage on his broken nose, “an accident. Nothing.” He leads them through the living room. He can feel the old wooden floorboards bend beneath the women’s weight as they walk, something he never noticed at his full size. The women glance side to side, inspecting the house as they pass. They see the sooty fireplace, and the two pairs of mounted moose antlers above. One pair is his father’s, the other his grandfather’s. They see the shag rug and the easy chairs where he learned to read from comic books. The coffee table and the lamps with tasseled shades. The shelf with the line of knick-knacks and family photos. A row of memories. Some of are of him and his sister as children. Some are of his grandparents. One is of his father and mother’s wedding.

    They enter the kitchen and he gestures to the island table and cushioned stools. “Coffee or tea?” he asks.

    “Oh, tea I suppose,” Jacqueline says. She and Marlee seat themselves on the raised stools and cross their legs, smoothing out their dresses.

    Damien stands on a stepping stool to pour their tea into separate mugs. He brings them over carefully, the cups large and heavy to him. His face is stiff in concentration as he attempts to hide the fact that his arms are starting to tremble while he tries not to spill. In his focus he accidentally brushes against Jacqueline’s toes and almost splashes. He blushes immediately at the touch of her large foot against his stomach. She appears not to have noticed.

    He finally manages to reach up and place the cups on the table between the women. He breathes a silent sigh of relief. He can smell their scents distinctly from here: sweet, yet brisk and professional, like a bouquet of flowers in an office building.

    As Damien climbs up onto a stool, Jacqueline asks “So, you haven’t gotten the operation done yet?”

    “No,” he says, clearing his throat. “No I… I get by, and there are some issues at work. Some cutbacks. I may be losing my… Anyway, after what happened to Pepsi, and the costs, and… Well, times are tighter around here you know? I mean you wouldn’t know, obviously, but I mean… My job-”

   “Damien. Are you asking me for money? Is that what this is about?” Jacqueline says, leaning forward.

    “No! No, no, sorry, I just… I shouldn’t have… I was just talking. About what happened. I didn’t mean that at all.” His head sinks and he stirs his tea miserably.

    “That’s all right, Damien, no worries.” Jacqueline leans back and takes a sip of her drink and frowns a tiny bit. She wipes her mouth daintily with the back of her hand and sets the cup down. “You have a lovely little home Damien. You must have so many memories here. I can see why you don’t want to give it up.”

    “Yes,” he says, his head rising, “Well, as you may have guessed, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about-”

    He’s interrupted by a dull thudding coming from the stairs. He curses under his breath and jumps down from his stool. “‘S’cuse me,” he mumbles. He rushes to the nearby stairs as the thumping draws nearer. "Dad!" he hisses, stopping. "What're you doing?"

   His father looks down at him in surprise. He sits halfway down the stairs, one hand on the rail, his leg stumps exposed. He's in his boxers and a t-shirt. "I... I was going to wind the grandfather clock. It's stopped."

    "I have guests!" Damien whispers. He glances back to them, and then stands in front of his father to keep him from being seen. "Jacqueline is here. We're going to discuss the house, remember?"

    "Oh... I'm sorry Damien, I didn't..."

    "Yeah fine. Just, let's go okay?" He rushes up the stairs behind his dad to give him a hand back to his room. He tries to hook his arms under his dad's shoulders to drag him up the stairs, but his father shakes him off.

    "I can go back to my damn room on my own," he says, flushing slightly and looking away. Using the wooden railing, he pulls himself back up the creaky stairs in hopping motions. Damien watches him go for a few moments, before turning and taking a deep breath.

    "I'm sorry," he says to his guests as he climbs back up onto his stool, and stares at his tea.

    "Whatever for?" Jacqueline says.

    Damien looks at her for some clue for if she had seen or heard the exchange between him and his father, but she just stirs her tea innocently. "Um, so," he says and clears his throat. "About this house. I've uh..." He pauses and swallows, turning back to his tea, but his gaze is far away.

    "Hmm?" Jacqueline says, bobbing her foot slightly.

    "I've changed my mind," he says, and sighs deeply. "I've... I have to sell it." He looks at Jacqueline. "I'm prepared to accept an offer."

    "Oh, is that what this is?" Jacqueline says, feigning surprise.

    "Y...yes?"

    "Oh, well if that's all, Damien, I have to say I’m not interested anymore." She stands up, and turns to Marlee. Marlee looks up at her in surprise for just a moment before quickly rising.

    "Wait... Woah, wait what?" Damien exclaims behind her. "You... excuse me, how are you not interested anymore?"

    Jacqueline gives him a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised, before following Marlee out of the kitchen. "Find another buyer."

    Damien jumps after them, shouting: "You've bought every piece of property around us! We're literally surrounded by your land, nobody else is going to buy this house!"

    "Really? How unfortunate for you. Best of luck, Damien," she says, striding through the living room. Marlee holds the front door open for her.

    "Jacqueline, you're our only chance here! You have to-" he says grabbing Jacqueline's elbow.

    Marlee snatches his wrist and twists it fiercely, immediately forcing him to contort and squawk in pain as something snaps. She then shoves the small man against the wall, knocking him to the floor and causing the coatrack to fall on him. He fumbles painfully under the large clothes, until Marlee plants her foot firmly on his small chest and presses all the air out of him. His eyes bulge in alarm, and he instinctively grabs at the large shoe, trying to pry it off of him.

    Jacqueline walks over to him slowly. She looms over him, staring disdainfully at his struggles. Eventually she leans down and takes his face in her hand, squeezing his cheeks together. She says, "I will do, whatever, I want. And there is literally, no way, for you to stop me." She lingers there for a moment, a hint of a smirk playing about her lips, before she releases him. She puts her sunglasses on and saunters out the door. Marlee steps off him and follows her out. Damien gasps for breath, clutching at his chest.

    Then he lies there for several minutes, staring at his ceiling. There are light brown splotches, like spilled coffee, where the ceiling had leaked long ago. In the corner, a cobweb floats gently in the breeze from the open door. Turning his head, he looks up from the floor. "Paige?" he says softly. "How...how long...?" But his sister is already turning away.

Chapter 9

    Damien slouches in a chair in his father's room. His wrist is in a cast.

    His father takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry son. Not just about the bad news. About coming down and interrupting like I did. That wasn't smart."

    Damien sighs too. Eventually he says, "It's okay. It was just bad timing. I'm sorry I got mad, I'm just... stressed."

    His father laughs a little, under his breath. "Yeah... Bad time to fix a clock."

    Damien looks at his father. They both have a gleam in their eye. "Hmm, yeah," he says, "I gotta hand to you dad: you really got me wound up."

    "Well son, it's just in hour blood."

    "Well in that case, at least I won't be second-guessing myself."

    They both double over with laughter, unable to continue.

    His father takes a deep breath and wipes his teary eyes, grinning. "Your mother would have really hated us just now," he says, looking wistfully out the window.

    Damien's laughter fades away, and he follows his father's gaze. "Yeah.”

Chapter 10

    Damien freezes for a second. Soap foam drips from the dish he holds in his good hand. Then he hears it again. A bark. He drops the dish in the sink and runs to the front porch. He puts his hand over his eyes to shield them from the low evening sun. The sky is turning from blue to orange and pink. Pepsi's still in his yard, but she's barking at something down the road: Paige. Jacqueline's gate is open and Paige is about to walk right through it, following a large, shining black car as it enters the driveway.

    Shouting her name, Damien sprints after her. He can tell instantly by her posture that she's not herself again. She's in one of her states. She turns, sees him. There’s no sign of recognition in her face, only alarm. She backs away from the screaming man, up the driveway. The automatic gates start to slowly swing shut.

    Then her face contorts and she starts to shrink. She sinks into her clothes, terrified and confused. By the time Damien slips through the gate and lunges for her, Paige is gone.

    Suddenly Damien convulses. He looks down and sees the driveway rushing up to meet him. He turns and hurls himself backward toward the gate, but trips on his pants that are suddenly too long and sprawls onto the pavement. The doors close before him with the click of a mechanical lock and the echo of metal bars. He shouts and clutches at himself as he dwindles away.

    Eventually it ends. Lying in his giant clothes, it’s as if he's under a massive blanket. He gets up slowly, stiffly. The cast has fallen off of his broken wrist, revealing dark bruising. Stooped over and holding the shirt up with his good arm, he makes his way to the line of buttons and clambers through them awkwardly, emerging from the oppressive fabric. He’s only half an inch tall.

    He scans his new world. The blacktop is like a strange desert landscape, flat and endless in the golden evening. A nearby craggy hill signifies his pants, and a far away mountain range is Paige's clothes. He starts walking toward them.

    But then in the hazy distance, two figures, side by side, silhouettes against the neon sky and dying sun approach. It’s Jacqueline and Marlee, coming from the car. They’re in business attire. Jacqueline is wearing all black, jacket, skirt and pumps. Marlee is in the same basic outfit she wears most of the time - black pinstripe skirt and jacket, snakeskin pumps with buckles, and a pompadour. They approach casually, and even on the pavement, Damien feels the ground vibrating with each of their massive steps. Soon Jacqueline is towering over him like a goddess, almost incomprehensible in size.

    "Well," she says, her voice booming onto him, "This is rather unfortunate for you, isn't it?" Her immense presence is stifling. Even if he managed to speak, she couldn't hear him. "I mean you, and who I assume is your sibling here, both shrunk at the same time? How troublesome. It’s impossible to take care of your family like this, you’ll have to get yourself enlarged again. And that will take money of course, you’ll probably have to sell your house to afford the procedure. And get a bank loan. You would be in debt for the rest of your life, bankrupt, homeless. Yes? Here, put this on."

    Marlee crouches down gracefully and extends her upturned finger. Damien steps back in alarm from the huge hand that moves so quickly toward him, but once he gathers himself, he takes the object from her. It’s a huge square case, tiny to her, inside of which is a headset and mic made for his size. Jacqueline and Marlee put on their own headsets.

    She leans forward, peering down at him with her hands on her hips. "Is that what you want to do, Damien? Do you want to sell your house?"

    Damien swallows. His throat is really dry.

    Jacqueline taps her foot. making Damien jump. He shudders at this display, the sheer pounding mass so close to him, and quickly puts on the headset. He clears his throat. His eyes dart back and forth as he struggles to concentrate.

    Jacqueline touches her headset. “Is this thing on?”

    Eventually, Damien says: “Uh, I… I don’t have choice. Yes, I want to sell our house.”

    Jacqueline hears his voice in her headset and smiles. "Hmmm, and I suppose you want me to help you by picking you up off the ground first?"

    Damien feels something cold run down his spine. “Yes.”

    Tap. Tap. Tap. Jacqueline leans down and says slowly, "I want you to beg."

    “W-what?” Damien is shaking now.

    "You heard me, little one. Get down on your knees and beg me to save you and your family. Go on."

    After a long hesitation, he slowly gets on his knees, and puts his hands out before him. “P-please, Jacqueline. Please.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

    "Hmmm," she contemplates again. She puts one finger up to her chin as if in deep thought. But then she simply says: "No.”

    Damien’s eyes bulge.

    “I just did that to see if you would,” she says. “Good job. You're so desperate right now, aren't you little one?" She smirks. "No, what you’re going to do is sign this paper now."

    Marlee steps forward and puts a document on the ground beside Damien. She uncaps a silver pen and holds it above the line requiring his signature.

    At his size, Damien can't even make out the the words stretching before him. He looks up at Jacqueline in confusion. "What is this? I can't see-"

    Jacqueline interrupts him, saying: "This document entrusts all your belongings to me, in the case of your disappearance or death. Or shrinkage. Whichever. That includes your property, your house, your "wealth", your pets. But at least you'll still have your family. Somebody has to take care of them, yes? Sign there."

    Damien backs away from the paper holding his head in his hands. "N-no, I don't think so..."

    "No?” She cocks her head. “Do you really think you have a choice? Is it because you care about your family that much, or because I could just squash you under my shoe like a bug after you sign the contract? Which is it, little one?”

    Damie’s heart pounds in his chest at an alarming rate and he starts to sweat. "L-look I know we have our differences, but please, you’re scaring me. I know you can't k-kill me before I sign it because the property would just go to my family so...." He takes a deep, shuddery breath. "...so, I’m saying I would rather d-die than leave them with noth-"

    "Yes, I thought so. Marlee?" She says, smiling.

    Marlee reaches inside her pocket and draws out a tiny figure by its leg. She kneels, and places the figure on the ground by her shoe before standing again.

    "Paige!" Damien yells.

    "Damien?" She says. "W-whats going? What the fuck happened, why are we… o-oh my God, Damien what-" She screams as Marlee lifts her enormous shoe, pivots on the heel, and lowers the dusty grey sole over her.

    "No!” Damien screams, “No no wait I’ll sign it! Please wait please!"

    Jacqueline leans down and holds the pen over the dotted line for Damien.

    Damien rushes across the paper, chest pounding. He reaches up for the pen, but it recedes from his grasp. He stands there confused.

    Jacqueline smiles. She waggles the pen in the air a bit.

    Damien jumps and tries to grab it, but she pulls it just out of his reach again with a chuckle. Damien flushes, panting. He grits his teeth, enduring the humiliation. He jumps again, misses again. His broken wrist hurts, but he tries harder, jumping up and down until he stumbles and falls. Panting, he says, "Please..."

    "That's the idea," Jacqueline says. "Keep going little one..." she says, twirling the pen.

    Damien raises himself to his hands and knees, his head bowed, partly in submission and partly to hide his deep shame.

    "Please... Please miss Jacqueline... I beg you..." He sniffs and wipes his face with the back of his hand.

    "Yesss?" Jacqueline purrs. "What is it you want?"

    "I want... The pen..."

    "Why?"

    "To sign-"

    "Sign what?

    "The ...agreement-”

    "And what does it say in the agreement that your want?"

    "I...I want to... To sign over everything I have to y-you... In case I disappear... Or d-"

    "And why else do you want it?" Jacqueline's eyes flicker to Marlee, and the assistant presses down slightly with her foot, causing Paige to shriek in fear as the sole makes contact with her body.

    "Please! I want it so that you won't kill my sister!" Damien screams.

    "Good job, little one. That wasn't so hard was it? Now,” she says, “crawl over to my shoe. And start kissing it."

    Damien shudders, but does as he's told. The toe of her pump is taller than he is, and he lifts his head to kiss it. The smell of leather is strong.

    "Now beg. Say it all."

    Damien chokes back a sob and says: "Please Jacqueline, I beg you, let me sign over everything I have to you so you won't kill my sister."

    After a few heartpounding moments, Jacqueline bends down and dangles the pen over the line. "Go on then," she says.

    Damien scurries over to the pen, reaches for it with only a moment of hesitation, and brings the massive instrument down onto the line. With Jacqueline supporting the top of the pen, he painfully manages to scribble his signature in scrawling letters.

    "There. It's done," he says. He stumbles backward in alarm as Jacqueline snatches up the paper and stands straight. She holds the document in front of her, looking it over with a tight lipped smirk and gleaming eyes. Damien stands, panting nervously, eyes darting between Jacqueline and Paige.

    Then Jacqueline bursts with, sharp, mocking laughter. "Look Marlee, he signed it. He really signed it," she says, holding it out to her assistant and laughing some more. Marlee looks at it and smiles, happy for her mistress.

    "Please let her go now,” Damien says. “I did what you asked, I gave you every-"

    Jacqueline crumples the paper into a ball and drops it.

    Damien gapes. "I... I don't understand, why-"

    "That wasn’t a contract. You didn't sign anything, it was just a copy of the shipping receipt for the shrink machine Veronica gave me. Speaking of which, Marlee, tell them to bring it over now. Anyway little one, the point is I just wanted to see you beg before I destroy everything in your life. Did you really think I need a piece of paper to get what I want? My friend Emily is the Federal Justice Minister. She'll be over for the party next week, and I’m sure she'll be delighted to hear about the ‘agreement’ I had you sign."

    "H-how, y-you can't just do this to people-"

    "Oh but I can. Look." Jacqueline nods to Marlee, and Marlee turns her attention down to her foot. She looks under her shoe to make sure Paige is still underneath.

    "What are you..." Damien starts.

    Paige looks up, squinting and holding her hand to block out the sun suddenly shining down on her dusty, naked body, but then Marlee repositions her foot directly overhead and lowers it. Paige screams at the top of her lungs, “Damieee-” but is cut off abruptly in a wet crunch as Marlee presses her into to the ground. A jet of blood squirts onto the pavement from beneath her shoe, and as she lifts her her heel slightly, guts squeeze out from beneath like paste. Bones crackle and crunch flat while the giant shoe twists slowly side to side.

    Damien falls to his knees, grasping at his face and gaping jaw with trembling fingers.

    "Pretty soon you little ones won't even be ‘people’ any more, not legally,” Jacqueline continues. “You'll be more like 'pets'. At least that's what Emily says. Oh dear, was that your sibling under there?"

    Marlee lifts her foot once more to examine her work, turning her ankle. A flap of completely smashed flesh peels off the shoe and lands in a wet, folded heap. What was once a recognizable human is now only a tiny, gory flake on the ground. Satisfied, Marlee presses her foot down once more and drags it backward on the pavement, scraping what little is left of the remains.

    Damien vomits, barely able to hold himself off the ground with trembling arms. His sister was alive a minute ago, screaming for him to help, and now she’s a wet streak spread out on the pavement.

    Marlee lifts her foot behind her so she can see how clean her sole is. There’s still a gristly wet spot, so she scrapes it on the ground a few more times until satisfied.

    Jacqueline says: "That was her, wasn't it. Oh well, one less mouth to feed, hmm? Really I'm doing you a favor here. At least you still have your father though, isn't that right? Speaking of which, ah, here it is..." One of the staff staff arrives from the house carrying a small silver case. She presents it to Jacqueline, who opens it and produces what looks like a silver gun. "I got this as an early welcoming gift from Veronica. It's quite new, not ready to be marketed yet. It’s what I used to demolish the other houses so quickly."

    The assistant says: "Its already calibrated Miss jacqueline, just point and shoot.”

    "Excellent. You can go," Jacqueline tells her. "Now then. I've waited too long for this." She points the gun at Damien's house. "I hope you're watching, little one. Now, about your father and all your things..."

Chapter 11

    Damien looks up through teary eyes, squinting as the sun starts to sink below the distant mountains.

    Jacqueline pulls the trigger. There's a tearing, shifting noise as matter and mass begins to rearrange. He watches in horror as the entire building shrinks, the house he spent so much of his life in, dwindling away from sight.

    "No... no..." he whispers.

    "Yep," Jacqueline says. "Don't worry, it’s still there. Shall we take a look?"

    Suddenly the air is squeezed from Damien's chest as Jacqueline's massive finger and thumb pinch him up. His eyes bulge from his head as the ground shoots away from beneath him in a second. He would have gasped if he could, but then his vision is filled with Jacqueline's giant, piercing blue eyes. He can see every detail of her skin, every eyelash and every swirl and canyon of her iris. She overwhelms him completely.

    "You're actually quite cute all shrunken down like that, little one," Jacqueline says as she strolls down the road and then across the bare earth where the house had once stood. It stands only a few inches tall now, just a miniature dollhouse in a barren patch of dirt. "Finally, I can just crush the whole thing under my shoe and be done with it," she says, lifting one high heel over the tiny house. In the low evening sun, her shadow stretches before her.

    "No no stop!" Damien wheezes from the tight grip of her fingers. "My dad, he's still in there!"

    "Oh yes, that's right isn't it?” Jacqueline says, pausing. She puts her foot back on the ground. “I suppose I can let you fetch him out... If you beg a bit more." Jacqueline turns her hand and opens her fingers, letting Damien fall into her palm.

    It takes him a second to gain his breath before he presses his lips to her palm. "Please let me save him Jacqueline, please... I beg you..."

    "Are you sure you want me to do that? It may be hard to take care of him now, you know. I could just squash him and save you the trouble?" Jacqueline says.

    "No! Please let me save him," Damien cries.

    Jacqueline shrugs. "Thirty seconds," she says. Then she lowers her palm to the ground and dumps him in his own front lawn. "Count it off Marlee, would you?"

    Damien gasps as he hits the ground, but then he scrambles to his feet. He’s in front of his old house again, and with it back to scale, for a second it’s almost like everything is normal. Except that it’s in the middle of barren landscape. Pepsi jumps around him, barking.

    "Thirty," Marlee says, staring at her wristwatch. "Twenty-nine."

    Damien sprints to his front door. It’s still ajar from earlier and he barrels through it, almost losing his balance as he scrambles through the living room.

    "Twenty-seven," the voice booms through the house.

    He clatters up the stairs, turns at the top, down the hall and then bursts into his father's room.

    "Damien!" his father cries, face red in alarm. "What’s going on? What's happening?"

    "Dad!" Damien shouts, rushing to his side. "We have to go, we have to get out of here!"

    "Twenty-one."

    "What? But-

    Suddenly the ceiling bends and creaks under a huge weight, dust falling. Damien reaches for his father. "Oh god- D-dad, we have to get you out of here or we'll die, its Jacqueline, she’s, fuck we don't have time-”

    "Sixteen."

    "What? I can't, Damien, I can't move like this, you-”

    Damien grabs his father under the shoulders and tries to lift and drag him at the same time toward the door. There's a splintering crack as the rafters break and then all the windows shatter at the same time. The house groans loudly and shifts, the room tilting crazily. Damien falls and they both spill onto the floor in a tangled heap on top of the sheets.

    "Damien!" his father yells in pain.

    "Ten."

    Damien tries to lift his father again. Instead the man bats his arms away and looks him in the face. His eyes are bulging and bloodshot in his flushed face.

    "Damien, I- y-you should just go."

    "Seven."

   “But-”

    "Better go now, son."

    "Six."

    A section of roof falls to the floor with crash, covering them in debris and dust. In the gaping hole where the ceiling was, the black sole of Jacqueline's massive high heel shoe rests on the house directly above them.

    “Five.”

    They can hear her chuckling, even from here. Damien tries to not to look up as he frantically shoves the sheets and rubble off him and gets to his knees.

    “Four.”

    "O...okay." Damien’s face is pale and taut as he makes his way to the door. He pauses and looks back.

    "Three."

    His father nods back to him from on the floor, looking more broken but yet more alive than he has in months.

    "Two."

    Damien hurtles down the stairs as the building crumbles around him. He tries not to look at the ruins of it now, tries to ignore the memories that flood into his mind as he rushes through the house he grew up in. He doesn't want to remember it like this later. If there is a later.

    “One.”

    As soon as he sprints through front door, a massive booming crash signals the destruction of his home. A gust of wind pushes him face-first onto the ground, and wood splinters fly all around him. He looks back just in time to see the entire structure collapse and flatten beneath Jacqueline’s enormous, god-like pump. The building that was his home is now just a crater of boards and insulation and rubble. A dust plume rises and Damien looks way, way up and sees Jacqueline grinning in the sky.

    She shifts her weight, leaning forward slightly, and lifts her heel. Her shapely calf moves side to side as she begins to grind her foot into the ruins, her stockings sparkling slightly in the last sliver of evening sun. The remains of the house crunch and shatter under her. "Mmm,” she hums. "That was good.” She squints as she looks down, touching her headset. “I can hear you crying little one, so I know you made it out. Ah, there you are.” She bends down to look at him closely, keeping her feet planted. “Oh, no father? That’s a shame. Oh well, you tried. At least he died in his own home. I guess you won't get that same luxury though. Oh well.”

    Curled up on the ground, Damien buries his face in his hands and continues to cry.

    “Will you miss him?” Jacqueline says. “Do you want to have a funeral of some sort? I wonder if we can find him." She tilts her pump back on the heel and looks underneath. "Oh, what's this? Is that him stuck to my shoe?" She laughs and turns her raised sole to face Damien. “How convenient.”

    "No, no please..." He says between sobs. He tries to hide his face in his hands, but through his fingers he sees the white sheets that his father was tangled in hanging from her sole like curtains, soaked and dripping with blood. Jacqueline reaches down and pinches a clean corner of the sheet, tugging on it daintily as if it was a scrap of tissue. Damien watches as it peels away and a clump of intestines and other organs slide out, along with a mostly intact arm that tumbles into the debris. Left on her shoe is a squashed bloody t-shirt, almost unrecognizable with the patches of flesh pressed into the surface. A chunky, pink splatter marks where his head had burst and smeared. The rest of him lies in a wet heap among the broken boards and wreckage. Damien begins dry heaving again.

    Jacqueline looks at the little cloth, smirks, and folds the clean part over and uses it to carefully wipe off her sole until its almost dry. Then she rolls the bloody cloth into a ball between her finger and thumb and drops it.

    Damien gasps for breath, unable to vomit any more, quivering and crying.

    "No funeral then I suppose," Jacqueline says, sighing contentedly as she stands up. "There's just you left now, isn't there? I’ve had everything else related to you crushed. All gone."

    Damien emits a low moan. It slowly turns into a tortured growl, rising in pitch until he's screaming. Its a shrill and ugly sound.

    Jacqueline taps her foot. She listens to his little wails in her headset and crosses her arms. "I guess there's nothing left but to step on you now, is there?"

Chapter 12

    The sun drops beneath the mountains, and Damien continues screaming.

    Jacqueline says: "Yep, just going to squish you under my shoe now. Smear you underfoot like I did your family. Are you ready for that?"

    Damien screeches: “Kill me! Kill meee! Just kill me already!”

    Jacqueline glances at Marlee and pouts slightly, shrugging. She raises her shoe over the tiny man. "Should I make you beg for it? Beg me to end your life?"

    Damien raises his head an inch as he takes a trembling breath, revealing bloodshot eyes and broken veins in his face, and tears streaming like water. “Kill me you fucking monster! Kill me kill me kill meee!" he continues.

    Jacqueline sighs. "I've broken him completely haven't I?"

    Marlee nods.

    "I was thinking of keeping him in my shoe, as a little pet, if he begged me to let him live. Like a little prize to remember this by. But that wouldn't be any good now, would it? He can't get any more pathetic than this, there's just no teasing him left. Oh, but I really wanted to hear him beg one last time." She sighs and lowers her foot, slowly. She touches one edge of her sole to the dirt as she continues carefully, descending at a slight slant. She pauses when she feels the slightest hint of resistance under her foot, listening to Damien’s shrieks squeeze out of his chest and turn into breathless, tortured groans over the dull, muffled crack of a rib.

    Marlee suddenly crouches down and carefully picks something up off the dirt. She examines it closely, and then stands and presents it to Jacqueline.

    Jacqueline squints, but when she hears the noise the thing makes, she smiles slyly, nodding.

    Marlee crouches down again and places the tiny thing next to Jacqueline’s foot.

    Pepsi barks once and then whines, running to Damien.

    He finally stops screaming. Trembling and shattered, pressed between the giant black ceiling of the shoe and the dusty ground, he gapes at his dog. Blood trickles from his mouth.

    “Well,” Jacqueline says, a smile in her voice, “I guess if you’re not going to beg for your little life anymore…” She adds an ounce of pressure to her foot, and hears the tiniest crackle of Damien’s legs and one good arm being pulverized. He emits a gurgling scream.

    Pepsi barks and gets down on her stomach, wriggling her way under the shoe to reach Damien and lick him.

    “Aaaaugh, no! Pepsi, go! Go!" Damien half screams, half wheezes as he shoves his confused dog away with his one arm and broken wrist. Most of his body is ruined now, crushed beyond hope, the rest operating desperately on adrenaline alone. His face is bloody, bloated and discolored. "J-Jacqueline wait plea- aaaach!- please don’t kill me!”

    Jacqueline smiles triumphantly. “Oh, too late.” She lifts her heel an inch off the ground.

    “Jacqueline please! God please! Pleaaaaggchh-”

    He crunches flat. His cries end abruptly, forever. The last of the Reiner family and all of its memories die under Jacqueline's foot the moment his brain bursts through the front of his skull.

    She sighs. Staring at her high heel for a few moments, she flexes her toes a bit. Slowly, she drags her foot backward and watches the red smear stretch along the ground until it runs dry. The sun is gone now, the sky dimmed to a deep blue-grey, and an evening breeze rustles her hair.

    Then, she walks off toward her house.

    Marlee hurries up beside her and they walk in silence for a bit, a happy smirk on Jacqueline's face.

    Eventually Jacqueline says: "I know I said I wanted to keep him as a pet, but I couldn't help it at that moment. The timing was just fantastic."

    "Yes Miss."

    Jacqueline turns to her assistant and says: "Well? Did you enjoy that?"

    "Yes, very much." Marlee says, flushing suddenly and hugging her tablet to her chest. She keeps her eyes to the ground.

    "Of course you did. You just love it when I'm mean, don't you?"

    "Yes Miss."

    Jacqueline laughs. "Well you've proven yourself exceptionally capable this past month, so I hope you found this rewarding. If you want more, maybe I'll let you clean my shoes with your tongue later. Hmmm?"

    "Yes Miss Jacqueline. Thank you very much.” She swallows. “It was all, terribly ingenious of you, but if you don’t mind me asking, how did you do it? How did you get them all to come over to your property like that?"

    “Oh I have my ways.” She smiles mischeviously. “I’ll tell you later. But for now, we have matters to attend. Schedule the party for next Saturday, starting at 11am. Do you remember who I said to invite?"

    "Yes, Miss Veronica of course, and the Prime Minister, Dr. Hayley and Dr. Keyla, Miss Madeyln and her daughter Autumn, the Ferderal Justice Minister Emily, and the rest of the Canadian major shareholders."

    "Good. And make sure my daughter gets the memo, will you?" She says. “She can keep Autumn company. Tell them all to bring their pool clothes and their appetites. Its going to be wonderful. Got everything?"

    “Yes Miss.” Marlee pats her jacket pocket carefully. Inside, Pepsi whines.