Eventually, the tears dried up. Molly’s cracked, red eyes choked on the air puffing out of her ducts, incapable of producing anything more. The mourning woman stood up off the love seat and walked to her bedroom, formerly their bedroom. She collapsed onto a bed that was never quite big enough for two people, but now it felt far too large for one. With nowhere else to go, Molly retreated into sleep, and though her lost love haunted her dreams, she preferred it to his absence awaiting her in the waking world.

            Renton was still stuck to her shoe. No matter how much he squirmed, the gum applied to his body would not give way. A part of him accepted that this was how his second life would play out, stuck to the bottom of his wife’s sneaker until the day she finally threw these worn down threads into the trash.

            There was a sudden flash, and Renton could feel his prison lift into the sky. “Hey there, hero. How’s it hanging?” a pink-haired woman said, holding the sole to her face.

            “Petra? What are you doing here?” Renton asked. The angel was wearing her Evanescence shirt and plaid skirt; it must have been her Earthly attire. She pinched the piece of gum between her fingers and pried it from the sneaker, pulling Renton off with it. “I thought you weren’t allowed to help me.”

            “I’m not, not directly anyway.” She chanted a short incantation. A silver rune draped across Renton and dissipated the grime coating him, gum included. “I’m just getting you out of a sticky situation. Getting your partner’s attention is still your responsibility.”

            “Petra, can I ask a favor? It won’t count as help, I promise.”

            “Of course!” she announced with a toothy grin. “I’m your guardian angel after all!”

            “Can you place me in Molly’s purse?” he requested. Petra turned to the counter behind her where the handbag sat.

            “Sure, but why do want to go in there?”

            “I don’t need to eat or sleep or breath, so a few days in there won’t kill me,” he rambled. “I know it’s selfish of me. I want to let Molly know I’m here as soon as I can, but there’s something I have to see first.”

            “You want to attend your funeral,” Petra deduced. Renton nodded solemnly in her grip. “Makes sense. Most souls watch theirs from Heaven, though you’re a special case.” Petra stared at the purse while she pondered the consequences. “It’s probably for the best in the long run; let her process some of her grief before you jump back into her life. Besides, I think you’ve earned the right to be a little bit selfish.” She walked over and plopped him in. On top of Molly’s personal items was a layer of crumpled, discarded tissues, giving Renton a soft and somber landing. He dug through the damp tissue paper, past a lumber pile of pens and lip balm, and onto the purse’s leather floor. There was a small hole in the bottom corner of the purse, just large enough for Renton to peek his petite head through, giving him an adequate view outside of the purse. At the moment, he could see their kitchen table, fridge, and Petra’s bulbous face poking into frame. “All snug? I’ll be heading back, but I’m always available via the comm. If you get stuck again, I can be back in a flash, so long as no one else is around.” The angel vanished in a blink of light, leaving Renton alone in his apartment.

            He laid there silent and stationary, wandering thoughts as his only company. A lifetime of doctor’s offices and hospital rooms prepared him for the monotonous wait he embarked on. For the whole day and the entire night, he only saw Molly once, eating a single piece of toast for dinner before returning to bed. Every hour or so, he could hear her crying from the bedroom before she drifted off into depressive lethargy. It hurt Renton to see her like this, but a small part of him was at least comforted by the clear display of how important he was to her.

            Once the moon took its rightful place in the blackened sky, Renton attempted to fall asleep. It was difficult. In life, it was the never-ceasing pain that kept him awake, but in death, he simply wasn’t tired. He closed his eyes shut, but his brain wandered restlessly, as if it were hopped up on caffeine. Now that sleep wasn’t a necessity, there was nothing to lull him into slumber. Had he a job or a hobby or anything to do besides lay in his wife’s purse for two days, this would be quite the productive development. But alas, all he could do was wait and think.

…

            A knock at the door jolted Renton awake. Technically, he was already awake, but staring at his kitchen table long enough reduced his thoughts to a monotonous transmission of white noise. The knocking was the first sound he heard in hours which was enough to snap him from his stupor. The door was out of frame from his small hole, past the kitchen. A few minutes later, he could hear Molly pass by and open the door.

            “Hey, Molly! Just wanted to check up on you.” It was Chaz.

            Bastard, Renton thought, cringing at the man’s dulcet voice.

            “Oh, thanks.” Molly’s voice was weak and callous. Renton liked to believe her tone was aimed at Chaz, but even he understood that was wishful thinking. “Come on in,” she sighed. She led him to the kitchen table, finally crossing into Renton’s view. She was wearing the same jersey and jeans from yesterday, her hair messier and greasier than a rat’s nest. Chaz, prim and proper as always, his toned muscles accentuated by a lime green tank top, set a bouquet of white roses on the table as he sat across from her, facing her purse on the counter. Renton creeped back, ensuring he stayed out of sight.

            “Are you feeling any better?” he asked, ignoring the bloodshot eyes traced by deep-purple bags.

            “Worse,” she replied.

            “Sorry to hear that. You want to go out somewhere? Maybe some fresh air will clear your head.” There was a long pause. Molly rubbed her temples.

            “Chaz, I appreciate you trying to help, but all the fresh air in the world can’t make me feel better. This isn’t a bad breakup; I can’t just wallow in a tub of ice cream and move on. My other half is dead, and I’m expected to somehow live on without him.” Her weary glare drilled a hole through the table. “What’s even the point?”

            “Hey, don’t speak like that. I get Ren was important to you, but there are other people in your life, other people who care about you.” He stretched his arm across the table and grasped her hand. “I care about you.” To Renton’s chagrin, Molly didn’t pull away.

            “Thanks. I needed to hear that.” Renton wanted desperately to wriggle out of the purse and get his lover’s attention. He wanted to scream and shout and kick the giant bull out of his house. He wanted to end Molly’s suffering and put her grief behind her. But he was trapped in that purse. Even if he crawled out, there was no way of getting her attention without Chaz noticing, and if he saw him then the shrunken man would be zipped straight back to the afterlife. All he could was wait for the jerk to make like a tree.

            “Want me to stick around?” Chaz asked. “I’ve got nowhere to be today.” Before Molly could respond, there was another knock at the door. She got up and answered it, leaving Chaz behind at the table. Opening the door, Molly was assaulted by a group hug.

            “Hey, babe!” Becca shouted as she forced her way inside.

            “We’re skipping classes to spend the day with you,” Lindsay added, joining her friend in embracing Molly. Renton relished the disappointment smeared across Chaz’s face. “I brought tissues and Becca brought wine. We figured four shoulders should be enough to cry on.”

            “Guys…”

            “Nuh-uh. We gave you plenty of alone time,” Becca argued. “Now, we’re going to reminisce and cry and vent and cry and joke and cry!” She turned towards the man at the table, the small kitchen within view from the apartment’s entrance. “What the hell? Chad beat us?”

            “It’s Chaz,” he corrected.

            “Whatever. Go hit on someone else for a change. This is a girls only mourn sesh.” For the first time since Renton’s passing, Molly cracked a smile, her friend’s abrasive personality denting the iron wall of grief. Chaz got up and walked past the girls, turning to face Molly as he entered the hallway.

            “Reach out if you need anything. I’ll be there for you.” He waved and left. Lindsay stared at the hunk as he walked away.

            “Damn, I’m jealous,” she admitted.

            “You can have him,” Molly remarked. Her depression dulled the bite to her snide, but Becca and Lindsay’s influence was already improving her mood. “He’s a sweet guy, but I don’t think he realizes how overbearing he can be.”

            “Enough about him!” Becca shouted, slamming a bottle of merlot onto the counter. The impact made Renton jump, hitting his head against the clip of a ballpoint pen. “We’re here to talk about Ren. Out with it! All of it! The good, the bad, and the extremely embarrassing!”

…

            There was a small crowd gathered before the open casket in the dreary funeral home. Mostly family had gathered as Renton had few friends beyond Molly’s circle. Even by funeral standards, it was a somber affair. If the building’s raison d’être wasn’t deterring enough, then the décor ensured no one was comfortable. The forest green and burgundy carpeting clashed with the yellow, ivory drywall, and the place was oversaturated by the scent of stale, artificial lavender perfume. The fact the deceased was just over two decades old weighed heavily on everyone’s mind.

            Renton was still crammed into the bottom of Molly’s purse. Despite laying in there for days, he wasn’t sore or cramped in the slightest, though he was extremely bored, and the new scenery wasn’t doing him any favors. The purse sat on a chair in the front row, Renton’s porthole pointed straight at the casket.

            Seeing his own corpse was nothing short of surreal, even if it was several magnitudes larger than he currently was. He found his body repulsive, emaciated and pallid from a lifetime of illness. It had been doctored up by the morgue beautician to appear presentable, but the man was no miracle worker. Renton at least looked better in death than he had in his final moments, and his current form looked better than he ever had before, albeit at over a hundredth the size.

            Next to him sat Molly. All he could see of her was her left knee poking out from her black formal skirt. It was a rare sight to see her in a skirt, and it sucked that this was the occasion to get her to break one out. Though out of the tiny man’s sight, Molly wore a black blazer and a matching black undershirt.

            “We’re gathered here today to celebrate the life of Renton Stills…” the funeral officiant began. It was the standard funeral affair: the officiant droned on about how Renton made the most of life, that he was a kind and considerate person, he put a smile on everyone’s face, and a bunch of other stuff that was vaguely true enough to be applicable to almost anyone. Renton wasn’t here for this, he was waiting for Molly’s turn to speak. “…with that said, I turn the podium to Molly Rockefeller, to speak in honor of her beloved.” Molly got up off the chair, sending her purse falling onto its side as it lost its support. Renton tumbled over onto a dampened tissue shoved deep inside to make room for a fresh layer. He crawled back to his porthole in time to catch her eulogy.

            “Ren and I have been inseparable since birth. Our parents were neighbors, and to this day the best of friends. When I first left the hospital as a newborn, I was brought to Ren's house before my own, slept in his crib before my own. I was too young to remember any of this, but my heart tells me it's true. I can't remember a time where Ren wasn't my best friend.” She looked great as she spoke. Her composure remained strong throughout the service, refraining from breaking down against the onslaught of condolences and untimely reunions.

            “When we were six, he proposed to me with a ring made out of twisty ties. I told him no, that I wouldn't marry him until he got a job and a house...” A light murmur of laughter spread across the attendees. “...and every night since, I dreamed of the moment he'd ask me for real. He still had his hair back then, and I couldn't realize how little time we'd have together.” She paused and sniffed, blinking a few times to hold back her sorrow.

            “People would always tell me I'm strong to have stayed by his side through everything, to have supported him unconditionally through every obstacle and over every roadblock. But they don't know the half of it. We kept each other standing, and though I wouldn't think for a moment that my hardships could ever compare to his, Ren supported me whenever I needed it with no regards to his own pain. 

            “One time in high school, I was on the other side of the state competing in a softball tournament. Ren had a bad flare up that week and was stuck back home in the hospital. I couldn't concentrate, and that evening after the game, I wrecked my car and broke my arm, netting me my own hospital stay. When he heard what happened, you know what he did? He snuck past the nurses, hailed a cab, and rode four hours to visit me. He was barely conscious when he stumbled into my room, and we only saw each other for a grand total of ten seconds before he was rushed off in a helicopter.” Tears welled in her eyes as she laughed at the happy memory. “His parents were so pissed, and he had to work the whole summer just to pay them back a fraction of what the helicopter ride cost them.

            “It was then that I knew Ren was the one. I always knew, but that was the proof I needed to know I was right. By the time we graduated and were off to college, we were all aware he didn't have much time left, and we did our best to make the most of it, but there was never enough. I had to shelve those dreams of a fairy tale wedding and face the reality that our last year in college, our last year together, would be spent mostly in the hospital. He was in so much pain throughout this past year, and my only solace is that he's finally free from his suffering.

But five days ago, he proposed to me. He no longer had a job, we don't own a house, and he couldn't even be bothered to make a ring this time, but…” Cracks were forming in the dam she built around her heart, choking on her words as she spoke them. “...I said yes, anyway. And later that day, we were wed. I'm sorry we didn't invite any of you, it being such short notice. We were only married for six hours, but… but…” The dam had collapsed. Molly’s face was awash in a tidal wave of tears and snot.

            “Ren, if you're listening, if you can hear me, thank you. It'll probably be a long time before I see you again, and I… I don't know how I'll… but… I'll…” Words devolved into pained wails as Molly's mother escorted her daughter out of the room. Renton had his face buried in a used kleenex, its considerable size not enough to withstand his weeping.

…

            After a very long day, Molly trudged into her apartment. She dropped her purse onto the edge of the countertop, sending it hurtling onto the floor and spilling its contents across the carpet. She walked straight to her bedroom, not even glancing towards the mess she made. 

Renton dug his way through the tissues in his path and followed his partner's footsteps towards the bedroom. What used to take him seconds to cross now took minutes, his apartment stretching out like a vast desert before the puny sprite. Furniture were now mountains to him, and simple fixtures like light switches were as unreachable as aircraft soaring the skies above. 

            Several minutes after his wife, Renton entered the bedroom. She had carelessly discarded her clothing onto the floor before collapsing into bed, not even bothering to cover herself with a blanket. Renton walked around the mound of clothes, Molly's beige bra crowning a black hill, and reached the bed. A mussed comforter dangled off the side of the mattress, giving the little guy a path of ascent. 

            Even with his newfound body, scaling the sheet was tough. Renton was never much for exercise, and though he couldn't tire, he also had no experience moving his body like this. He gripped and flailed as he pulled himself upward, slowly inching his way to the top.

            Molly lied still on her stomach as if she too were dead. Drained of energy and emotion, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Renton stood at the other end of the bed, just before her feet. Each tip of her toes stood as tall as him, and the rest of her body stretched onward like a mountain range. Renton didn't waste any time clambering onto her middle toe, hauling himself up its hooked figure and onto the ball of Molly’s foot.

            Renton walked up the slanting slope of Molly’s sole, using her scrunched up skin as steps. His bare feet were dwarfed by hers, but he found the thought of him standing on the bottom of her foot amusing. Upon reaching the heel, the puny sprite leapt to grab the steep edge and crawled his way onto the ankle. He realized it’d be much easier to walk along the mattress beside her body, but it had been so long since he last touched his wife that he was glad to take the difficult path. He rolled down her ankle and onto her mighty calf, well-toned from years of playing sports. It was a decent hike across her lower leg into the divot behind her knee; short blonde hairs covered Renton’s path like unmowed grass, caressing his bare feet as he passed through them.

            He climbed out of the divot. The slope of Molly’s thigh was gentler than her sole, making it easy to reach the next hurdle. At the end of Molly’s thigh, Renton reached a looming wall of fat, her ass curving far above him. Even back at the calf, her bulbous cheeks blocked his view of her upper body, but up close and personal, it became clear how large her ass was compared to the diminutive man. The only clothing Molly still had on were a pair of light blue panties covering her fanny and rear, nude fat peeking out from either side of the wedged underwear. Renton took a handful, his miniscule fingers digging into his partner’s thick glute. Molly was too out of it to feel the tiny man scaling her ass, her butt’s flesh molding to Renton’s limbs as he ascended the posterior wall.

            Reaching the top of the mound, Renton took in the view of Molly’s back. He was only halfway across her body, but at least he was finished climbing for a while. Aside from her musculature and the subtle curve of her spine, her back was a mostly flat surface, meaning he would be able to walk the whole way unobstructed. Before hopping off her rear, Renton peeked over towards her crack lurking beneath her panties. His other head concocted a surefire way of getting her attention, one that required a bit of spelunking, but he resisted the temptation, believing the long way was the more romantic way of going about this.

            Renton slid down to the small of her back and began to trek across her upper body. Looking down as he walked, the mini man was amazed by the level of detail he could now see. Every pore, hair, goosebump, and fold was visible beneath his feet, like he could finally see the world in high definition. The woman that meant the world to him was now the world upon which he stood, and that filled him with a sense of comfort he never felt when he was alive.

            Finally, Renton arrived at the shoulder, inches away from Molly’s face. She was laying on her cheek, a slow stream of drool pooling out of her slightly open mouth onto the pillow. Her makeup was smeared from all the crying and her eyes were baggy. It took Renton a moment to move, awestruck by his partner’s magnificent beauty. Eventually, he snapped out of his transfixion and crawled along the back of her neck until he was on her cheek. Renton thought he had gotten used to the sheer difference in scale between him and Molly, but looking out across her face put into perspective his insignificance. She kept her spiky hair short, but to Renton it may as well be a forest. Her cheek alone was expansive enough to run around on; it was probably larger than the backyard of his childhood home. Her blush caked his soles as he approached her mouth. He could feel the breath from her nose blow by him as he stood near the cupids bow.

            The sprite got down on hands and knees and kissed his love’s upper lip. Planted against the ample vermilion, Renton’s miniscule lips were less sensational than a bug bite, and yet the giantess stirred in her sleep.

            “Mmmmm, Ren.”