“What did Jen say?”

I stared up at the giant fleshy conch shell-like shape that I currently hung from. My arms were wrapped around one of a thin bunch of gold chains which hung from some tiny blue topaz stones, which dangled from an ornate framework draped from Christine’s ear.

Earlier that day, Jen had inexplicably captured me inside the panther ring, announcing that she was heading out, but reassuring me that she’d be back some hours later. The ring was then stashed inside the toe box of one of her more well-worn pumps – with the reasoning that, if someone broke into the house, no one would think to look in an old shoe – while she was away.

Unfortunately it didn’t occur to her that the insulated ring interior would slowly fill with the leathery, musty stink of the dried sweat-infused insole, filtering in through the single hole in the panther’s throat like noxious fumes into an unventilated basement. Unable to escape the ring on my own, I had no choice but to tolerate it for what looked like hours, and settled in to take a long nap to spare my suffering olfactory sense.

At least until Christine came, her enormous fingertips rubbing around the glassy exterior to grind the head off and liberating me like some tiny ring-bound magic genie. It turned out she had been the one to organize a spa and massage for Jen. She knew where the spare house key was kept and after trying a couple of different places, managed to guess where I was hidden; apparently already familiar with Jen’s habit of hiding things in shoes.

Now we were driving into town; me riding her earring. The air-conditioning was up, defending us against the outside warmth. The cool draught rippled through the gold tassels, making me sway and spin gently. My hair bristled with cold and I found myself pulling myself up and down the chain in repetitive motions to keep my muscles in use, to stay warm. But I preferred the fan on than not, wafting with a cleansing apple scent from the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror, a far cry from the stuffy odor of the leathery pump.

“OH,” came Christine’s booming reply, vibrating from her immense throat just to my side, “DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT HER, MY LITTLE STUD. SHE THINKS YOU’RE STILL SNUGGLED AWAY IN THAT PATENT LEATHER POINTED TOE.”

Today she was glammed up for a good impression, but making me feel sorely underdressed – or, literally undressed, as I was naked. And staying that way, unless someone figured out how to make a suit out of insect chitin.

“What if she comes back?” I cried up into her lofty ear, from my shimmering golden perch.

“MY INSIDE CONTACT WITH THE SPA,” came the rumbling smooth reply, “SAYS THEY’RE KEEPING HER BUSY FOR NOW, BUT THEY’LL SOUND THE ALARM FOR US IF SHE TRIES TO SPRINT AWAY BEFORE SHE’S DUE HOME. IT’S ACROSS TOWN SO I’LL STILL HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO SLIP YOU BACK INTO THE SHOE AGAIN BEFORE SHE RETURNS.”

The car slowed to wend around some construction barriers. The road was being resurfaced and a stretch unpaved gravel juddered the tires. For an extended period, I was jiggled on the end of the tassel like I was riding a jackhammer before the car crossed onto newly laid asphalt. Even on normal road the car engine and road contact sent constant little shivers through the earring chains, unnoticed by Christine, but palpably quivering through my tiny body.

Every other moment Christine turned her head as she drove, causing me to go swishing around through the air and bumping against the corner of her lower jaw. Apparently, this caused a feathery tickling sensation to her, because it would elicit her gentle, breathless laughter, before the point of an enormous index finger would rise up, gently flicking me away so it could scratch the area.

We were on the opposite side of the city to the normal places where Jen and I usually ate out. Christine had shunned all the fancy eating houses on the Bay, terrified a big gust of sea air would sweep me into the waves to be gulped down by a fish.

Once the juddering movements of the rumbling car stopped, the earring shifted in rapid pendulous arcs in time with Christine’s footfalls, magnified by her choice of footwear for the occasion; a pair of heeled sandals whose jolting strides bounced me on the end of her earring like a tiny yo-yo.

We entered the restaurant she’d selected; a lesser known place that assured us some space and quiet. The café interior was under a glass roof, sun pouring in, flowering ivy snaking around railing. The table she had reserved was in the corner, with cane seats, one of them a two seat sofa with cushions.

She took the single chair, cane creaking, lowering me through the air into a position to face the wicker sofa, suggestively empty for now. My thighs clenched around the gold chain, feeling faint all of a sudden. Christine’s neck glistened with pinpricks of sweat in the warm air. Whereas, the sweat on my skin was caused by nerves.

On the table across from us, there was a clear towering water jug topped with a reservoir of water left behind from the previous guests. My throat was suddenly parched, aching for a drop of the untouchable drink. Then tore my eyes away, inwardly despairing:

Why had I come out here? – Why had I insisted? Even Christine had gently indicated that I didn't have to.

But deep down I knew I needed to get past this checkpoint before taking any next step in the marriage action plan. It was not that I needed – or that Jen needed – the permission. It was that I could not, in my state, fail to get the permission. I had no idea how her father would react to my intentions and I didn’t want to find out too late. Worst case scenario, if he didn't want me in her life long term, he could effortlessly flatten me with a screwing motion of his thumb.

Checking her watch, Christine went quiet as she browsed the drinks menu. Across the café floor, people chatted quietly and laughing, no idea I was present.

I was swished through the air as Christine whipped her head around, and then back again, while her fingertips rose and brushed at me from below; intending her touch to be delicate, yet due to the sheer immensity of her fingertips, colliding with my body and swirling me around.

“JERRY,” she said under her breath, “HE’S HERE.”

An older man’s deep, smooth voice sounded over Christine’s bare shoulder, apologizing for being late, and quickly filling up the empty sofa space across the table. While he was distracted by Christine, I stared out across the table at the expansive landscape of his form and analysing his features in forensic detail.

He struck me as a 21st century sultan; with dark skin, thick dark eyebrows and salt and pepper hair, and a trim, impressively groomed goatee and moustache. Beneath his shrewd brow, his eyes twinkled with a boyish kind of capering delight. It was a friendly, candid expression, but I wondered, once he’d heard what I had to say, how long would the expression last?

“THANK YOU FOR MAKING THE TIME, JASPER,” Christine was saying. “WE’RE BOTH VERY GLAD TO BE ABLE TO HAVE THIS CHAT WITH YOU.”

“AH HA, BUT YOUR FRIEND,” Jasper said slowly, stroking his beard, “IS HE NOT PRESENT BECAUSE HE’S BUSY…?”

His accent was a little thick at times. Added to that, his deep voice crackled through my bones and bodily tissues like a stampede of rhinoceroses. And my head already swam with nervousness, or maybe it was the swaying of the earring in the warm draught giving me a queasy feeling.

Another wave of faintness swept over me, and my eyes dropped from his gargantuan face as if searching for stable ground below. The closest was the tabletop many meters down, where the giant poster of a drinks menu stretched over the corner of the table, close by the enormous resting masses of Christine’s long elegant fingers. At intervals, her other hand slid around a glass of latte, the surface like a foamy pool. I was enjoying precisely nothing to drink because there was no drink small enough – though my throat was parched and even a glass of water sounded like a sip of forbidden heaven. More than that, I could have used a shot of liquid courage right about now, but it was pre-lunch, too early in the day for that.

“DESPITE OUTWARD APPEARANCES, HE DID IN FACT MANAGE TO MAKE IT,” she went on gently, “AND HE HAS SOMETHING VERY SPECIAL HE NEEDS TO TELL YOU.”

And her nails were rising up towards her ear, assembling into a – literal – handful of painted beige platforms beneath my dangling legs, and holding in place.

I let go of the chain, dropped, before my soles slapped onto the hard curve of nail on the end of the curled middle finger.

“I’m down,” I said to her.

Then the air was whooshing past me, and I dropped into a crouch to hold my balance, but there were no handholds, so I got down onto my belly, spanning my arms across the width of the nail to hang on.

The air stopped rushing, but it was immediately replaced by a propulsion of warm air that whipped my hair around, and kept me flattened to the nail for a second. Then the wind reversed direction in an instant, switching from hot to cold. I took this opportunity to jump to my feet, and looking up, found myself standing naked on the plate of Christine’s nail, staring up at the colossal face of Jennifer’s father.

Suspended just above were the twin caverns of his nose, blasting a pneumatic spray of hot air every several seconds. Each exhale caused his thick nose hairs to quiver in excitation. Below his nose, his thick, creased brown lips were pursed, bordered by the black forest of his brambly beard. Much higher up, the humungous windows of his eyes stopped on me, freezing me in the black depths of his pupils. His brow scrunched with the effort of discerning my microscopic face. Then the great ridge of the brow and pair of spiky thickets that were the eyebrows lifted to reveal his eyes again, shaded below the oiled black palisades of lashes. At the same time, the lips suddenly peeled back to expose the gleaming white battlement of teeth as he grinned.

“AH, THE MOUSSEAU – JERRY!”

His voice hit me head on like a steam train. I flinched.

Still with a big grin, he pointed at me with the two great logs of his first and second fingers, and his thumb cocked, his hand making a pistol shape and lifting with a small jerk, as if pretending to shoot me.

In return, I gave him a big wave, but only with one hand – my other was cupped around my genitals.

“Hi, Jasper,” I called out. “It’s good to see you again.”

He chuckled good-naturedly.

“THAT VOICE,” he exclaimed, “IT’S JUST A CHIRRUP!” He turned his head to point the dark tunnel of his outer ear canal at me, and framing the shell of his ear with a hand. With delight, he instructed: “NO, DON'T STOP – LET ME HEAR THAT LITTLE CHIRRUP AGAIN!”

“I realize,” I sighed, trying to deepen my voice as much as possible, “I sound and look very different from when we last met.”

His head turned back to face me straight on.

“YES, I RECALL NEWS OF YOUR ACCIDENT…” the huge eyes narrowed again as he surveyed me. “BUT YOU ARE WELL?“

“Doing as well as I can,” I replied, flexing the fingers of my free hand somewhat compulsively.

“BUT YOUR BODY – YOU LOOK GREAT,” he said, completely serious, his bushy black eyebrows rising with sincerity. “A DIFFERENT PERSON. SHOW ME THE NEW ASSETS, GIVE ME A POSE.”

He lifted one arm and slapped his bicep. He had a muscular form that looked like it had taken a complacent downward slide in recent years.

In response, I bent my arm and tensed the muscles, and flexed my pecs. I could only flex one bicep as my other hand remained on indefinite duty protecting my groin. My chest bunched up on the one side and the attached arm rippled with striated fiber and popping veins. Ever since my second miniaturization I’d blown up even bigger, but it meant nothing. It didn’t count if people had to squint to see your biceps. I was big, but tiny.

“WORKING OUT,” Jasper murmured in approval, assuming I must have come by my figure the hard way. “IT’S ALL GOOD DISCIPLINE. BUT – AH – I AM A LITTLE SHORT OF THAT, LATELY…”

He leaned back and patted his belly, which was rounder than the last time I’d seen him. Of course, literally everything was bigger to me since I’d last seen him, when I’d been going out with Jennifer the first time, normal size. He was not what you’d call typically fat, but it just so happened his belly was so large compared to me it could have crushed me like an avalanche. 

He went on idly:

“YOU HAVE SHRUNK AND I HAVE GROWN. ALL HAVE OUR BATTLES. BUT WHAT A SURPRISE IT IS TO HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN.”

There was shifting movement somewhere below me. The great muscular brown hands clasped together, businesslike, on the table in front of him, the tendons flexing powerfully. One bushy eyebrow twisted up with curiosity:

I DIDN’T GET IT FROM TSARINA THAT YOU TWO WERE BACK IN BUSINESS…?”

‘Tsarina’ was Jasper’s pet name for Jennifer.

The lumberlike fingers rubbed against each other, massaging idly. The gold band of his wedding gleamed under the sunlight.

My stomach pulled tight.

Oh crap, I thought.

How was I going to wear a wedding ring? I was small enough to 'globe walk' a wedding ring band like a circus performer. Crazy that it hadn't even occurred to me until now. I had been too busy figuring out whether I was strong enough to lift an engagement ring. For that matter, how was I going to fit a tuxedo? I couldn't front up to my own wedding in the buff. Jen might have seen the funny side of it, but I did not.

Now it felt like a mass of eels was snaking around in my belly. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this after all. I was going to throw up…

With a sound like a rushing ocean wave; another typhonic wave of hot, coffee-bittered air escaped Jasper’s cavernous nostrils, battering the front of my body, making my cheeks and eyelids rattle. It was like a slap, snapping me back to reality and quelling my slithering insides. At the very tail end of this hot surge, I took a deep breath, stuffing my lungs full of fresh air, and answered:

“We’ve only just gotten back together recently. But,” I quickly added, locking my eyes on his, using every ounce of courage to return his gargantuan, unblinking gaze, “we’re serious this time, Jasper, and I—”

With a powerful jerk of cool air, the suction of inhalation wrenched across my body, causing my feet to shuffle forward as I almost lost my balance. Every time the air shifted, the pressure change caused my middle ears to click wetly, and there was a rapid build-up of painful pressure either side of my skull, squeezing like a depressurized soda can, that didn’t release again until the inhalation levelled out again. Relief was only temporary as it started to build all over again anew each time the air flow raced in either direction, which was every few seconds. It was like standing in an aeroplane mid-flight, and the emergency door kept malfunctioning, opening and shutting at intervals, seizing the air with a sickening yank every time it did so.

Setting my jaw, I patiently waited for the lull between breaths. Lucky he was nowhere near as anxious as I felt: his respiration was currently calm and slow. Last time I knew, he intermittently did boxing and weightlifting and I couldn’t imagine how unbearably bad it would be if he was panting from just having pounded away in the gym before getting here. He had a well-exercised set of lungs, and I was feeling every last cubic inch of their fearsome capacity.

Timing and catching the lull between his breaths, I raced on:

“—I love her with every fiber of my tiny being, which might not sound very impressive, because I basically only compromise a single fiber of being—”

The air turned into a tropical swamp again, as another thick, steaming stormcloud washed over me, dappling me with a mist of saliva like acid rain due to the double shot coffee on his breath; so black and bitter it made the sensitive epithelial membrane of my eyelids and the inside of my nostrils sting like they’d been hit with noxious fumes.

 “—But that’s the best offer I have to give right now. That, and incredible financial stability –”

The air went chill and the moisture evaporated as it suddenly changed direction again, welling up from below, and from behind my head, combining into a big dry ocean that was pulled like a great tide away, up towards Jasper’s nostrils again, and making an impressive attempt at snatching me up with it. My ears rang as the air whistled past. As the mega-vacuum passed over me – like I was nothing more than a pesky speck of dirt that needed suctioning up from a carpet – it shook right through the insubstantial filament of my frame. The inhalations were even worse than the exhalations: if I got blown across the table it might not be a tragedy: hopefully Christine’s reflexes were good enough to slap a hand over me before I skidded off the tabletop and onto the ground, to get lost amidst pebbles and dropped food crumbs – or pecked up by a passing pigeon who confused me for a grain of food. But to get taken by the cold drag, along the invisible rip tides of air, up into the twin black voids of the nostrils – what would happen to me, then? – I would stick to the gluey inner lining of the nasal vestibule, or get lodged halfway in a sinus. And that was if I was lucky. Otherwise I would be pitched down a long dark tunnel and roasted up in a bubbling cauldron of stomach juice. There would be no hope of being rescued by regurgitation, not before I was melted down into nothing more than a dollop of something like the hot froth that crowned Christine’s latte.

The danger was too abstract and ludicrous to occur to Jasper. His face hovered recklessly low over me so he could register my tiny ‘chirrups’ as passable human speech. He wasn’t bothered by such fantastical notions as his nose turning into a giant tractor beam.

Every time the air was wolfed down into the depths of his lungs, my petrified heart clattered between my ribs. As each sucking drag sapped my energy, the defensive flexion of my muscles was reduced to pathetic quivering.

As the air slowed, my tiny squeaks flitted back up into the older man’s face:

“—Which is why I wanted to meet you today, Jasper, because—”

Then another maelstrom of hot, damp air came gusting out, pulling across my skin and muscles, tight. My eyeballs were flecked with tiny moisture droplets before I could shut them, although my brow was already damp from perspiration. I ran my hands over my face then waited, using the moment to collect myself, wanting to ask all at once.

When the air settled again, I launched back into speech:

“—I intend to ask Jennifer to marry me, and I would be honoured if you were to give me your blessing.”

Jasper observed me for a moment, his eyes still bright and interested, his mouth relaxed. His broad, blunt fingertips played around his jaw, stroking the beard. Several gusts of wind spilled in and out, in and out of his nostrils, flapping against me each time. My toes clenched. Christine’s finger twitched beneath my feet, causing my muscles to tighten further in an attempt to maintain my balance.

Jasper frowned. Then his voice blurted out of his throat and exploded against my eardrums:

“TSARINA? MARRIAGE?”

Staring dumbfounded, his eyes flicked from me to Christine, and then back down to me again. Then he let out a sudden splutter of laughter that thundered through my body, making my muscles twitch and seize up. My teeth gritted as my hands clapped against my ears.

“THIS IS MY DAUGHTER, YES?” The mountain ridge of his shoulders rolled with a great shrug. “EASILY SOLVED. SHE DOESN’T WANT IT. BYE BYE.”

Up to this point, my mouth had only opened in strategically placed intervals, in gaps between Jasper’s respirations. Now I didn’t even think: my mouth fell open and I stammered for a second. This moment’s inattention cost me as, next second Jasper let out a big, amused breath; correspondingly, a flood of hot air spilled into my mouth, ramming down my throat before I remembered to close it again, but it was too late.

My airways went agonizingly taut, my lungs blew up until they trembled on the cusp of popping. With the panic of a dying person, I put all my effort in exhaling hard and squeezing my diaphragm to push the excess air out. Jasper’s coffee-scented exhaust seemed to have not only inflated my lungs but my stomach – and possibly other vital organs – as well. My heart began to palpate rapidly as the pressure in my torso put strain on my core and made my blood vessels feel tight and thick.

I got caught in a loop of coughing as my eyes tried to roll up into my head from the dizziness clutching my senses. My hands had started to tremor and my knees felt weak, about to buckle.

Maybe sensing my distress, Christine jumped in tactfully:

“IT HAS BEEN VERY RECENT, JASPER,” she conceded, “BUT JEN’S SENSIBILITES ABOUT MARRIAGE HAVE UNDERGONE A KIND OF PARADIGM SHIFT. JERRY HAS WOKEN HER UP TO THE IDEA, AND NOW IT’S FIXED IN HER MIND. SHE’S UTTERLY CAPTIVATED BY HIM.”

Jasper’s head had lifted to meet Christine’s eyes, and consider this in silence. At least this pulled his oppressive breath off me long enough for my aching lungs to recover. Then, like great shining boulders, his eyes revolved back down upon me again.

A low, serene resonation filled the cavities of my body:

"JERRY, DON'T SPEAK OF THE MARRIAGE NOW."

At the same time, his arm sent out the dark hovercraft of his hand, two bulky fingers extending towards Christine’s middle finger, until their tips made contact, establishing a bridge between her light middle finger and his dark pointer and middle finger. They held like that as Jasper’s baritone filled the airspace:

"GET ON. I WANT A CLOSE UP. EYE TO EYE.”

Taking several shaky steps forward, my feet touched upon the dark surface of his pointer nail, like a plate of glossy stone.

My view of his face scrolled up past his lips and nose until I stopped parallel to the keen surveillance of the bright brown eyes, mercifully sheltering me up and away from the cyclonic current of his breath.

His brow blocked out the sky, his head like some great rounded mountain face, flattening me beneath the weight of its sheer immensity. Although my legs felt like jelly, I managed to remain upright, and even stare back into the eyes.

The black tufts of lashes swatted the surface of each eye, each singular lash like a rope I could have grabbed and dangled from, though probably too slick with sebaceous grease for good grip. The voids of his pupils were even more intimidating than his nostrils, because I knew as they honed on me, they were feeding him with an image of my tiny, pathetic shred of being.

As his broad brow furrowed at me with concentration, I had the feeling of being an ant he'd just saved from being crunched under his boot, and he was now internally debating what to do with me.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU GO TO THIS TROUBLE,” he muttered calmly, “AND WHAT YOU ASK OF ME...WHEN, I DON’T HAVE THAT POWER.” Though I couldn’t see his mouth anymore, the corners of his eyes creased now as if he was smiling, but only just. “THAT’S TSARINA. YOU DON’T COME TO ASK ME TO PULL YOU OUT OF THIS ONE, BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE THAT POWER.  ARE WE CLEAR?”

I stood there, lost for words. Finally, I got out:

“I’m sorry, Jasper, I don’t follow what that means.”

His voice clamoured on without pause:

“MEANS IF YOU TRUST ME TO HOLD YOU ON MY FINGER, THEN POSSIBLY I TRUST YOU TO TAKE MY DAUGHTER’S HAND. BUT,” he let this sink in, “THIS IS YOUR DECISION. YOU'VE WEIGHED THE RISKS AND DONE THE MATH…YOU UNDERSTAND?”

“I think so.”

Satisfied, the eyes seemed to recede their focus, and the twinkle returned.

“THEN IT SHALL BE!” he shrugged. “AND I WISH YOU LOTS OF LUCK!”

*

“WELL…” Christine said once we were back in her car, “…HOW DO YOU FEEL, SWEETIE?”

“I don’t know. He seemed uncertain. Why did he hedge like that?”

“SEEMS TO ME HE CARES FOR YOU MORE THAN YOU REALIZE.”

I stared at her for a moment in the rearview mirror.

“You sure?”

“IT MAY BE THAT HE’S CONCERNED JEN WILL ACCIDENTALLY HURT YOU.”

“Oh. Well,” I sought for something to say, then just said, “Fair point.” Then sighed with resignation. “I’m really tiny, aren’t I?”

“YOU’RE STILL UP AND AT ’EM,” she said. “DON’T TAKE IT THE WRONG WAY, BUT YOU’RE LIKE A FLY. NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES THIS AND THAT COMES SWATTING AT YOU, YOU KEEP ZOOMING BACK IN THERE FOR MORE.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“THAT’S HOW I MEANT IT. JEN TOLD ME ABOUT STUART AND REMY. IT SOUNDS LIKE A BIG, SCARY LIFE CHANGE BEING YOUR SIZE. AND THOSE TWO WEREN’T EVEN AS SMALL AS YOU ARE NOW. SHE’S AWESTRUCK BY HOW ROBUST YOU ARE.”

“What, uh,” I cleared my throat, “else has she told you?”

“OH, JUST IDLE THINGS GIRLFRIENDS TELL EACH OTHER. NOTHING FOR THAT EENSY LITTLE HEAD TO GET TOO WORRIED ABOUT.”

“Er—” I began.

“YOU MUST REALLY TRUST HER,” she said earnestly, “THE THINGS YOU LET HER GET AWAY WITH…”

“I don’t have a lot of say in any of it,” I said, a little too hastily, not even sure what I was defending myself against.

She tutted me with disbelief, rippling her fingertips against the earring, sending me flying around and, if anything, seemingly relishing my discomfort.

“DON'T TELL HER I LET YOU IN ON THIS,” she went on more seriously, “BUT THE WAY SHE MAKES IT SOUND, YOU CAME BACK INTO HER LIFE WEARING A RIBBON AND A GIFT TAG WITH HER NAME ON IT, AND SHE'S HAD OODLES OF PLEASURE UNWRAPPING YOU.”

I made a huffing sound.

"I'm not a toy!" I barked, blushing at the whimpering petulant squeak that was my voice.

"NO,” her throaty rumble humoured me, with a patient smile, “OF COURSE YOU’RE NOT.”

As if to move away from the subject, she went on:

“SOUNDS LIKE TSAR MIGHT BE IN FOR A TALKING; A LITTLE ‘FATHER TO DAUGHTER’.”

"But he's not going to spoil the surprise...?"

"I DON’T THINK YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. HE’S NOT THE TYPE TO BLAB. HE’LL PROBABLY JUST WANT TO ENSURE SHE CAN KEEP YOU OUT OF HARM’S WAY."  

The earring swayed as the car turned a corner and a brilliant green city park expanded out the window. I was silent for a little while, watching people jogging, walking their dogs, sitting on the grass. Behind the glass window, the car interior gave me a small sense of insulation from how oppressively oversized everything was. But I hadn’t seen people in days and was content to watch, trying not to over burden myself with envy at the sight of their feet freely tramping the emerald lawn and breathing the open air, under the natural warmth of the sunshine.

On a walking path bisecting the grass, birds fluttered over the grass, picking at food crumbs, with a jolt reminding me that I was no bigger than those crumbs. The birds flapped away as a leashed dog eagerly nosed the specks of food, before they were trodden on by the indiscriminate sneaker of the dog’s owner.

As the scenery scrolled by, the dog and walker disappeared, replaced by sparkling river running along the park with a couple of kayaks cruising down it.

It came out before I knew it:

"It's only been possible for me to survive at this size because of her."

Christine said softly:

"YOU DO LET HER KNOW THAT...?"

I was silent for a long time, thinking – of all people – of Natalie, and what she'd say if she could see me like this. She'd found me harmlessly cute at mouse size, but I had a feeling at insect size, I was removed from her world entirely, too little to understand and properly relate to. A romantic relationship had been unbridgeable before, and now, probably even a friendship would be. But nothing shocked Jennifer, not mouse scale, or even insect scale. She treated each downsize almost like an exciting new challenge to master, and provided a creative outlet for her fount of energy. She had never intimated so much as a complaint against my size, or even a wistful suggestion of what could be if only I were bigger. She had never made me feel bad, or different, or loved any less for being smaller.

Christine’s attention had returned to driving, and the landscape unfurling around us, and seemed to let the question go.

"I guess not," I said, finally. "Not enough."

I had mumbled to myself, but forgetting that – positioned so close to her ear – she could hear me. Blushing with embarrassment, I cleared my throat and said:

“Has the massage place contacted you yet?”

“DON’T PANIC, LITTLE STUD,” she reassured, “THERE’S NO RUSH. MY GUESS IS SHE’S STILL AT THE SPA, CONTENTING HERSELF WITH THE THOUGHT OF YOU SNUGGLED AWAY INSIDE HER SHOE.”

“What time is it?”

The gold chains tinkled against me as Christine’s head turned, her gaze drifting out the side window where a shining mall complex built up against the blue sky.

“IT MIGHT BE AROUND THE TIME YOU AND I GO ON A LITTLE SHOPPING EXCURSION…”