"Gwen, I think..." Ian began, but I cut him off, pointedly looking down at him.

"I think your problem with this oversized furniture," I paused, making a show of languidly crossing my legs and draping myself over the petite café chair, "well, to you," I continued, "is a perfect segue for tonight's conversation. I mean, after nine months, we supposedly know each other so well. I was curious about what we'd talk about tonight. But now, it seems we have much to discuss. So, shall we address the tiny elephant in the room?"

Ian gazed up at me, his eyes a mix of sad resignation and confusion. "The tiny..."

Once again, I cut him off. "You know, the teeny tiny elephant sitting on a stack of textbooks in a highchair."

"Gwen..."

"Ian, I know what you're going to say," I interrupted, my voice filled with anger and frustration. "You're going to say I didn't lie to you because I never asked. So fine! You didn't lie to me. However, don't you think not telling me that you're an Opa is really lying?"

"Gwen, I..."

"I'm not done, Ian," I snapped, my emotions bubbling over. "I can't believe you hid this from me! We've been dating for over nine months! Did you ever consider telling me!? Then you just show up tapping at the bottom of my door! I just can't believe you did this!" Tears were now streaming down my cheeks, and I was struggling to hold back a scene. "Then! Then!! You just presumed that everything's fine! You're just standing there under my knees like ... this! Like this is normal! Oh my God, Ian! I feel like a giant monster standing next to you! Like I'm the fifty-foot woman!"

"22 feet," Ian replied sheepishly.

"What?" I asked, bewildered.

"You're like 5'6" and 120, right?"

"No," I sniffled, wiping away a tear, "I'm 5'9" and a half, and 130 pounds."

"Oh, it's hard to tell from my vantage point," Ian mused.

"So, to me, you're closer to 24 feet tall and 4 tons."

"To you, I'm 24 feet tall and I weigh FOUR TONS!!??" I exclaimed incredulously. "Oh my god, Ian, you are not helping your cause!" I struggled to comprehend the vastness of our physical differences. To him, I weighed more than an SUV. I could literally crush him.

"Okay, let's just get this out of the way," I said, resting my chin on my hands and fixing my gaze on Ian.

"So, Ian, how small are you?"

Ian hesitated, his gaze avoiding mine. "Ummm..."

"Come on, Ian, just be honest."

"I'm a little over 18 inches and weigh almost 3 pounds," he replied quietly.

My mouth dropped. He was a foot and a half tall and not even three pounds. He weighed less than my purse, less than a gallon of milk.

"I could pick him up with one hand," I muttered to myself.

"No, you couldn't," Ian retorted, irritation in his voice.

"Oh my god! You are fucking delusional, little man!" His comment had stirred anger within me for some reason. I was furious. "I curl eight times your weight at the gym!” I don't know why, but his comment angered me. I'm not some frail old woman! Couldn't he be honest with me? Honest with himself? He's a ridiculously tiny man! No amount of pretending would change that. How would we even begin to work as a couple? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wanted to walk out and leave, but I didn't. Not without figuring this out.

"Ian, I'm just spinning my wheels here, trying to make sense of this. You need to know how much you hurt me. I trusted you, believed in you. I fell in love with you. I don't understand why you would hide this from me!" My eyes welled up with tears again. I really wished now that we had this fight in my apartment. "I can't believe you did this to me."

I glanced over at Ian, who was looking up at me, not with anger or defensiveness, but with a look of guilt and shame. "If I had told you, would it have changed anything?"

"Of course, it would! I'm not going to lie to you, Ian. If I had known you were an Opa, I would have never let this go past friendship."

Which was the truth, if an Opa as small as Ian asked me for a date, I would have politely declined. But that ship had sailed. Ian and I had constructed a romantic relationship built on distance and perceptions. What happens when a fairy tale love story smashes headfirst into reality? My attraction to Ian had always been more than just physical; I'd fallen in love with him for who he was, and in almost every aspect, he was still that same man. That was the crux of my dilemma: how to reconcile this new reality with my deep feelings for him. I couldn't deny that some of it had been an illusion, but I didn't know which was worse - that he was only 18 inches tall or that he had shattered my trust in him.

"Ian, how did this... okay, that's a stupid question. I know how, but when? Jesus! I have so many questions, but can you at least tell me why? Besides fear of rejection, why didn't you tell me?"

"Here's your bottle of Château Cos d’Estournel," Chloe returned with the wine bottle. We both mustered awkward smiles as she presented it to Ian. "Oh, that looks lovely," he said, marking the beginning of a new chapter in Ian's personal Gulliver's Travels. Chloe opened the bottle with practiced precision and poured a small serving. Then she paused before handing the oversized glass to Ian.

"Ian, would you mind if I tasted it?" I asked trying to head off another awkward problem.

"Of course, Gwen."

I was through being a bitch, and it felt good to drop the façade. Chloe looked relieved as she handed me the glass. "Thank you so much, Chloe, for being so considerate in serving us tonight. You've been incredibly thoughtful." That was genuine gratitude; I was truly appreciative. However, I also hoped she wouldn't decide to spit on my food.

I made a show of sniffing and tasting the wine, even though to me, it all tasted like, well, wine. A $300.00 bottle of wine was utterly wasted on my unsophisticated palate. "Mmm, this is good," I replied with a white lie. Looking at Ian, I continued, "Ian, would you mind using a straw to drink yours? I know it's not ideal..."

"It's fine, Gwen. That's a great idea. Chloe, could you bring me a straw, please?"

"Of course," Chloe replied, heading away.

"I think she deserves a very nice tip," I said to Ian.

"I think we both agree on this," Ian concurred.

"Ian, I want to apologize for being a giant bitch tonight," I couldn't help but chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Well, it's just, you know... if someone said they're being a giant bitch, you'd think, 'Oh, they're being very bitchy.' But in your case, I truly am a giant bitch. There is so much wrong about tonight; you just have to laugh at things."

Ian looked at me, his expression crestfallen.

"Anyway, I want to apologize for my behavior. I'm angry, heartbroken, and I'm feeling a lot of other unpleasant emotions. So, when you showed up at my door like this, I was mad, and I wanted to hurt you. Which is really weird for me because I never thought of myself as being vindictive." I started tearing up again, finding it almost impossible to keep from crying.

"That was very heartless and immature of me, and it's not who I am. For that, Ian, I apologize. I wish I was smarter and just had this out with you in my apartment, so at the very least, I wouldn't have to worry about fucking crying in public!"

"Gwen, you don't have to apologize," Ian said, his voice a mixture of understanding and sadness.

"Yes, I do, Ian," I replied firmly, my emotions still running high. "Because I don't treat anyone like I've treated you or the poor waitress. Anyone. But, like I said, I'm beyond pissed and heartbroken. It turns out I've been living a lie for over nine months! So, come on, Ian, tell me the truth. Why did you do this?"

Just then, Chloe returned with a striped straw that could be bent at the end. I quickly wiped away my tears and looked up at her with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Chloe. I can take it from here." With a sense of purpose, I poured the wine into Ian's glass, tore open the package containing the straw, and placed it on his tray, as though it were a juice box for a toddler.

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze fixed on Ian. It was strangely fascinating to watch him try to manipulate objects meant for normal-sized people. He had to stand on the stack of books to reach the oversized straw.

"If that doesn't work, we can try something else," I offered, concern in my voice. "Maybe a shot glass or a water bottle cap, or—"

"No, this is fine," Ian interrupted, taking a break between pulls from the straw.

I looked down at my wine thinking, “Why was I so trusting?” Without prompted I voiced the reason I'd never questioned Ian's height before. "You know Ian, the reason I never asked if you were a Nexie was that I just assumed, being a Kennon, you were a townie like the rest of us."

Ian sighed, and a hint of sadness crossed his face. "Only half. I was conceived via in vitro fertilization. Unfortunately, the donor was a carrier."

"Lucky you," I replied, my tone laced with regret.

"Lucky me," he echoed.

"Okay, Ian, I'm listening, why didn’t you tell me?" I asked in a softer tone.

He hesitated for a moment before he began to speak, "Where do I even begin, Gwen? I guess the best explanation is that I'm a coward. I'm so sorry, and there's really no excusing what I've done. I'm truly sorry for hurting you and breaking your heart. I never meant to catfish you, and it's the truth that I wasn't looking for someone when I met you."

I couldn't help but feel a mix of confusion and frustration. "I get that! No one wants to admit to having flaws, but hiding this for nine months? I don't understand."

Ian nodded. "You asked when this happened, which sort of fits with why I did this. It's funny, I've had this imaginary conversation with you about this so many times, and here we are, and it's still so difficult to discuss."

"Ian, just try," I pleaded, my heart aching.

"Please, Gwen," he implored. "One thing I've learned is that it's easy for your kind to interrupt a little person. You asked for an explanation, and I'm trying to give you one. I just need to start at the beginning…”

“The beginning?” I interrupted. “Ummm…Ok I guess”

“You asked me when I got sick. It was during the last big wave, a little over two years ago."

I gasped in shock. "Oh my God, you're a Deadender?"

Ian nodded solemnly. "That's one term for it, but yeah."

My mind raced, struggling to process this revelation. "You managed to avoid getting sick for almost ten years?"

"Yeah," Ian replied with a heavy sigh.

"How?" I exclaimed, in disbelief.

Well diary, I bet you’re wondering what a “Deadender” is. Everyone, regardless of their genetics, had fallen ill, and the consequences were catastrophic. The disease had been relentless, especially for young people. It felt like the world was in a constant state of turmoil, with periodic waves of NExVID wreaking havoc. However, as time passed the disease, at least to people without the two vulnerable genes, became less pathogenic. People grew complacent and desperate after years of isolation, lockdowns, and countless emergency restrictions that often did more harm than good.

During a prolonged period of quiet, some scientists even dared to hope it might be the long-awaited end. For most of us, the virus had lost much of its deadly grip. In fact, scientists later discovered that almost all humans harbored a residue viral reservoir without experiencing symptoms. Assumptions were made that it might be safe for Opas and Minis as well. Many of the last holdouts, the "Deadenders," gave up their isolation, whether out of sheer exhaustion or blind optimism, and ventured back into the world. That rash decision triggered the final, devastating wave, collectively known as the heartbreak wave, as it began shortly after Valentine's Day.

"So, you remember when the pandemic started, and no one knew why some people were shrinking?" Ian asked.

"Yeah," I replied, shuddering. "I was so freaked out that I'd wake up a few inches tall and get eaten by my cat."

"Well, my parents were on the frontlines, working back-to-back shifts at the hospital. They just assumed it was going to happen to one or both of them. So, they moved me to the pool house, and that was the last time I had any physical contact with them... Well, until last year. When the link between the specific oncogenes was discovered, they became stricter. I had to stay inside when anyone was on the property. Meals were left at my door, and we mostly talked online. They made sure they worked different shifts, so one of them was home all the time."

I couldn't help but empathize with Ian's ordeal. "So basically, it was solitary confinement. I can't even imagine. That must have been incredibly tough," I said, shaking my head.

Ian sighed, a mix of emotions crossing his face. "It was, and I was often angry with them, but I was scared too. I didn't want to die, and I definitely didn't want to shrink. But it meant basically being a prisoner on the family property for over seven years. I don't mean to sound like I'm whining. I'm not," he added with a wistful smile. "Okay, maybe I am, but I also know I'm incredibly privileged. My parents had the means to keep me safe and built an isolation fortress. I know that most people didn't have any means of protecting themselves. But even knowing that didn't make the isolation any easier."

Ian was sharing his pandemic story with me. It was a story that everyone had in those trying times, but the Nexies, like Ian, undoubtedly had more dramatic tales to tell. Normally, I'd be annoyed because it was beginning to sound like an excuse for his behavior, but this was different. I had never met a Deadender before, and if he hadn't told me, I would have never known. He seemed so well adjusted, which was surprising. You'd think he'd be afraid of his own shadow and have the social skills of a hermit. Despite my lingering anger, it was difficult not to feel a sense of empathy for him.

"I know," I replied, my voice softening. "I felt that way myself a couple of times during the pandemic. But, compared to your experience, mine was a walk in the park. Well... I mean, it was bad. I was in bed for almost a month the first time I got sick, and it took me half a year to fully recover. But I never had to worry about shrinking. It must have been truly awful. So, did you stay in the pool house?"

Ian shook his head. "No, eventually they had a cabin built for me on the far side of the property. It was secluded and fenced, positive pressure ventilation, UV air purification system, the works. Other than walks by myself or a pressure suit if my parents were around, I was almost always by myself. I finished high school and college in that cabin. We went to such crazy extremes."

I looked down at Ian's tiny form with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "Maybe it sounds extreme, but it doesn't sound crazy to me," I replied sincerely. "The threat was obviously very real."

I couldn't help but share a glimpse of my own pandemic experience. I thought I had it rough. When my parents lost the house, we moved in with my grandmother. It was a huge farm in Greene County, right up against the Blue Ridge. It had been in my dad's family for generations. Now, I'm not exactly a country girl, but I'm definitely outdoorsy. It was tough. I was sometimes lonely, often bored, but it was home, and it was safe. I had my family, homegrown food, the woods, the farm animals, and even the chance to sneak out every once in a while. Although, that's exactly why we all got sick the first time. Evidently Ian just sat in a cabin by yourself, enduring years of solitary confinement.

"Well, maybe," Ian admitted thoughtfully, "but was it worth it? I was basically wasting away in that cabin. Despite weekly therapy sessions and medication, it just wasn't enough. The isolation was slowly eating me alive. By the time I graduated, I was in a really dark place, contemplating things I shouldn't have been. I finally mustered the courage to tell my parents that I needed a break, some real human connection instead of just staring at faces on a monitor. During my junior year, I started researching International Relations programs, and I became fixated on the one at the University of Edinburgh. My parents, of course, wanted me to continue at William and Mary, but I had this insatiable urge to move to Scotland."

My eyes widened with incredulity. "But how on earth did you manage to convince them, especially with your risk, to let you study abroad?"

Ian shook his head, chuckling quietly. "Well, it wasn't easy. They could see me fading away, and my therapist saw it too. Eventually, my parents realized that it was better to risk catching NExVID than to watch me succumb to depression and suicidal thoughts brought on by isolation. It was an agonizing decision for all of us, but they chose to let me go. I swung back and forth between sheer terror and unbridled excitement about leaving that cabin."

I nodded, suddenly feeling like there was so much I didn't know about his journey. "You know," I confessed, "I always had a lot of questions about your time in Scotland and how you managed to navigate all those travel restrictions."

Ian replied with a hint of amusement, "You never asked."

I looked down at my wine feeling slightly embarrassed. "Honestly, I was curious, but I guess I never thought much about it. Living out in the boonies for nine years can make a girl a bit sheltered and naïve."

Ian leaned in as if revealing secrets, "Well, I was indeed a rare American allowed to travel to the UK. One of my dad's frat brothers worked for the State Department at the American embassy in London. He pulled some strings, got me special clearances, and helped pave the way. Of course, there were other obstacles, and my parents did some persuading and, well, greased a few palms along the way..." Ian paused and laughed, shaking his head. "Fuck, I do sound like a snotty, entitled rich boy, don't I? Perhaps that's a more plausible reason for you to find me repellent, wouldn't you say?"

"No," I stammered, "Well, I didn't mean that's a reason. Damn it! I growled in frustration. "What I mean is, you're not repellant, just..." I sighed deeply, failing to find the right words. "Just tiny. Anyway, you're not a snotty rich boy. I've crossed paths with my fair share of wealthy assholes, especially in Afton, but you're incredibly self-aware, down-to-earth, and kind. You've been nothing but wonderful..." I hesitated, my disappointment evident in my voice, which caused Ian to look ashamed. “It’s one reason I find why you hid this so difficult to understand.”

“I’m sorry I keep interrupting. I just have these questions.” I replied. I stifled the urge to argue with him, I didn’t want this to turn into a hostile interrogation.

“No, it’s fine. You have questions, ask away.” Ian replied. “This is the part of my life you don’t know about. I just want you to know this isn’t an excuse, or a ploy for pity. This an important part of who I am. Actually, this is cathartic. I feel so much better getting it off my chest. It was wrong of me to keep it from you, and before you go, I want you to know this last part of me.”

“I understand,” I replied solemnly. Ian seemed resigned to the end of our relationship. I understood, and part of me believed that ending it might be the right choice, but after being with him, and despite the shock of this new revelation, I still loved Ian. I had no intention of walking away. My inclination was more toward not pursuing a romantic relationship or anything physical with him, but I remained determined to keep him in my life.