It was a simple plan.

Micah ran it through in his head, one last time. The plan was simple.

He was going to make contact with his mom. Then… he faltered at what would happen with that aspect of the scheme.

He glanced back at his dead phone. He saw Aiden, waiting patiently on the ground, quite pooped after the pair’s arduous journey upwards that had culminated in only one of them reaching the top of the desk. Far out, past the solid hardwood plains of the writing surface, he could catch a glimpse of the dust-like students, all collected about the big black box as though it were an item of religious significance.

Micah shuddered. He ran the numbers in his head once again, and assured himself internally. “Yeah, this should work.” 

He paused in his thinking. A chill overcame him. Perhaps it was draft of the cold room. Then he repeated to himself, a near indiscernible shudder in his own voice. “This should work.”

The clacking of the tough-bottomed flats of Sharon’s shoes began to reverberate outside the library, before the door opened. Micah stood up, his heart experiencing an unparalleled euphoria as he saw the deific face of his mother survey the room with confusion. Just the sight of someone familiar was enough for him, and he waved his arms, yelling out, “Mom! MOOOOM!”

The miniscule vocal cords of his couldn't carry much of a soundwave, however, and Ms. Kingsley simple spoke to herself in a low tone, “What on earth was that boy going on about? Shrunk?”

She examined the text again. Fortunately, Micah was nothing if not clear and succinct with his texts. It indeed read that he had, somehow, been shrunk. Whether it was some sort of inside joke or prank to play on his poor, unsuspecting, only two standard deviations past the middle of the bell curve IQ… mother… she did not know. So she closed the door behind her, the shockwave sending Micah off balance a bit with the gust of wind accompanying it, and stepped inside.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

Micah yelled back in response, “Yes, please! I’m here! Mom, look at me!”

And to no avail.

The woman walked around, taking a full lap about the library, looking for any sign of humanity. Her footsteps kicked up a light storm of dust everywhere they went, and as Micah saw this, he could only imagine what the rest of the class was going through right now. And Aiden… Aiden.

Micah ran to the side of the desk and looked out underneath, searching for his friend. Thankfully, he caught a glimpse of him. “Aiden!” he yelled.

Aiden gave a thumbs up. 

“Aiden, can you get up here?! You need to try again!”

“Oh… uh, okay!” It was an easy enough job of convincing his friend he probably wanted to be on the desk rather than beside it. And yet, it was at that moment that Sharon was finishing her lap around the library, hands on her hips, getting increasingly more frustrated, both at the lack of communication, the obtuse antics of her son, and -- come to think of it -- a nagging feeling of annoyance in her shoe. Sharon didn’t know if it was a pebble, a crumb, or something. But whatever it was, it had been a nuisance for long enough.

Reaching down, Sharon removed her stockinged foot from the flat, tossing it aside. In the interest of an even stride, she took the other one off, placing both feet on the cold floor, flexing her toes. She would deal with the shoes later, but for now, she needed to find her son. And a thought was occurring to her.

What’d that text say again?

Sharon took her phone out again and reread the message: “‘look on the desk’?” she said out loud. With a glance at the nearest desk to her, she finished her lap.

Micah saw her arrival, accompanied by her sudden realization, and he felt a moment of triump. But then, his mathematically-inclined brain could see the writing on the wall. By which, of course, he meant the angle of Sharon’s trajectory to the desk, which brought her on a direct collision course with…

“AIDEN--”

SPLORCH.

It was quick. This giantess was incomprehensibly quick. How on earth could something so big move so fast?! He didn’t even have time to scream; he hadn’t reached the foot of the desk leg yet. And now, right where Aiden had once been walking on the ground, the manicured, nylon-blanketed, gargantuan nails of Micah’s mom had replaced him.

Micah’s blood ran cold. But there was no time for that. It… it would be fine. It would all be fine.

Sharon reached the desk and looked at it, having difficulty making out precisely what was on it. Micah saw the face get closer, and his heart began to pound as his mom’s face scanned the desk, now literal inches (big people inches) away from him, and yet she still appeared to be having trouble pinpointing his location. Waving his hands once again, Micah yelled out, “MOM! MOM! I’M HERE! I’M WRITE HERE!”

That seemed to do the trick. Sharon’s eyes darted to where the sound had come from, quickly reaching Micah’s position. Her eyes widened, and she realized there, on the desk, waving his hands around just like any other person… there was her fourteen-year-old son.

“What… the… hell?! Micah, baby?! Is that you?!”

Micah nodded, and Sharon reached her hand out, placing it palm-side up upon the desk face. Her fingers were roughly the size of Micah’s height themselves, so he had trouble pulling himself up upon their girth. He fell down into the divot of her palm,  and collected himself as Sharon gentle raised her hand up to her face.

“Oh my goodness… you’re the size of, of, of, an ant!” 

Micah nodded. “Yeah, mom. I… I… well… I messed up. I…” Tears began to leak from his eyes as his mother looked down at him, endless, insurmountable worry upon her gentle face. He thought about Aiden, about the rest of the students, lost and alone, about the countless other kids in the building that might’ve been caught in the crossfire, and he just began to unravel.

“I-I-I… I was just trying to…”

“Shhh… it’s okay baby… I’m here…” Sharon coo’d, an index finger from her other hand approaching the pit within which Micah stood, and this finger was what Micah had to hold onto in order to retain any semblance of togetherness.  He knelt down and hugged the fingertip, feeling the love and warmth of his mother embracing him, totally and utterly, from just her little finger.

Micah sniffed. And he collected himself. “Okay, okay, I’m fine.” A bit of snot dribbled down his nose, which he quickly wiped away. He turned back to his mother, face a bright red, and Sharon raised her hand closer to her face so she could hear.

“Okay, thanks Mom. Now, I need you to do something. For me. It’s the only way to get us back to normal.”

His mom nodded. 

“I need you to walk over there. And grab that box on the ground.”

“I’m on it, sweety!” Sharon tip-toed to the other end of the library, maneuvering between the desks until she finally reached the black box. Looking down at it, she could see a few dozen small ant-like creatures scurrying about. This piqued Sharon’s curiosity, but not before Micah issued another request. One that would leave the mother quite confused:

“Now, before you pick it up… Do you see those ants on the ground near it? I need you to crush them. For me.”