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     Outside in the car, the cold air leaked in through the half opened window and gripped him tightly. His fingers clasping the cigarette had grown numb a long time ago, the cherry at the end nibbling closer and closer to the filter. He tipped the cigarette out the sliver of open window and tapped the ashes into the frigid, stagnant air. He glanced up at the window of his apartment through the tangle of bare tree branches before taking out his phone and checking for a text. There was one. It was a message from some girl way out in Oklahoma, someone he had never met but had become acquainted with somewhere on the ephemeral waves of the internet. She went by Sara but he had never asked for a last name and neither had she. They were just two acquaintances on a crowded ship somewhere in an empty ocean. They were an affair in an empty office building. She was someone who had been willing to indulge his fantasy.

I guess my little man should crawl inside my shoe *i pull my big foot out of my shoe and tilt it so u can get in*

     Eli could feel a dull throb in his crotch, a pleasant little swelling. It only grew as he texted a quick, giddy reply. God, did she get him. Or at least one facet of him. He was a normal guy, a man with hopes and dreams and a girlfriend. But ever since he had been a child, there had been a dark, hidden characteristic that made up a massive portion of who he identified himself as. He had, as far back as he could remember, been interested in being shrunken down to a small size. If he had taken the time to stop and think about how disheartening it truly was that such a core part of his own personality was in fact the most secret portion and arguably his biggest embarrassment, he may have been a little upset. He may have identified with Peter Parker and his alter ego; or a gay man before he comes out of the closet; or a quiet atheist in the bible belt. But he wasn’t so eloquent, and it was something he preferred not to dwell on. Instead, he blindly reached out to strangers to help him live his fantasy, to indulge in the impossible with a faceless doppleganger . . . even if it meant cheating on his girlfriend.

     As Eli slipped the phone back into his pocket and he took another drag from his cigarette, the guilt came back to him and he glanced back up at the apartment window once more. It was cheating, of course, but everyone is the hero of his own story and he didn’t believe his actions were despicable. Of course not: cheating involved sex. This wasn’t sex, this was talking and chatting. Had he been better with words, he may have called it banter. Had he not been blinded by his own lust and desire, he may have realized it was possible to cheat on someone emotionally as well as physically. Like Spiderman peering through the reflective lenses of his mask as he patrolled the city, Eli sat in his car wearing the dark mask he donned when he delved into his fantasy. When he felt the little vibration of his phone telling him he’d gotten a new message from Sara-from-Oklahoma, he ceased to identify as Eli Bantam and instead became someone else . . . little man, as Sara called him, among other things. Occassionally she called him little shit when she felt particularly coy, and maybe that moniker would fit him better.

     He tossed the thoughts away and snubbed the cigarette in the ashtray in his vehicle before rolling the window up and stepping out into the winter air. The ground was packed and frozen solid, crunching underfoot as he dashed for the apartment door. He practically flung himself into the apartment and swung the door shut behind him, sealing out the cold and letting the warm air wash over him. He breathed into his hands as he kicked his shoes off and walked toward the kitchen. He didn’t see his girlfriend Melanie anywhere.

     “I’m back,” he called to the apartment itself more than to her. His voice carried down the hall and through the rooms that branched off from it. He saw groceries on the table, yellow plastic bags from the dollar store down the street. He absently pawed through them. Cans and coffee filters, batteries and dried fruits. But there was something else that caught his eye. Curious, he pulled the thing from the bag and held it out.

     It was a ski mask, made from cheap black cloth that felt itchy against his fingers. It had three holes stitched into its fabric—holes that peered back at him like a lopsided, grinning face. The tag still poked out from the top like the stalk of an apple. He tilted it a little to see if there was a price sticker clinging to it, unable to stop wondering why Melanie would buy a ski mask of all things.

     “Do you like it?” she asked from behind him, startling him. He jumped a little, causing her to giggle as she came forward and put her hands on his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” She planted a kiss on his lips and giggled again, her laughter rumbling in his own mouth.

     “You didn’t,” he said as she pulled away. “You just surprised me.”

     “That’s just a nicer way of saying I scared you, honey.” She opened a cupboard door before reaching into a bag and pulling out a couple of cans to stow them away for the time being. As she did so, she turned to glance at him with a smile on her lips. He loved that beautiful smile, and always had—it drove him wild.

     “So,” Melanie asked. “Do you like it?”

     He held it in both hands and looked down at it. “Yeah,” he said. “But what the hell do you need a ski mask for?”

     “It’s not for me, it’s for you.” Her beautiful, bare feet padded against the linoleum as she went back and forth from the table to grab cans before walking back to the cupboard to stash them inside.

     He stepped up to the table before she could make another trip, grabbing a can and holding it out to her. She grinned as she took the can and continued stacking them in the cupboard.  “Why do I need a ski mask?” he asked.

     “For the trip, silly.”

     The trip. “Oh yeah.” He’d forgotten all about it. He was supposed to be going with his brother and his father to the hunting cabin that rested out on a plot of land that had been passed down to his father. The fact that Eli didn’t care much for hunting hadn’t diminished the insistence of his brother and father that he should come along with them. He had been dreading it and had tried to push it out of his mind. Apparently he’d done too good a job.

     “I know you’re not that thrilled about it,” she said. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the top shelf, giving him a breathtaking view. Her lovely arches and heels pointed toward him. Her fierce calves tensed under her pastel pajama shorts which barely contained her ample rear end. He practically drooled at the sight before lending a hand. He took the can from her and placed it on the top shelf. “Thanks,” she said absently. “But like I said, I know you’re not happy about having to go, but I thought you might as well stay warm while you’re there. Right?”

     “Yeah, I’d rather be warm and miserable than cold and miserable.”

     “That’s the spirit,” she chided, slapping him playfully. “Try it on. See how you looks.”

     He lifted the mask and tugged the price tag free before holding it open and ducking his head into it. He pulled the cloth down over his face, twisting and adjusting it in the darkness until finally his eyes and mouth met up with the holes in the mask. He peered out at his girlfriend through the holes in the mask, his peripheral vision a little diminished. The fabric was itchy, but it felt right at home. “It fits,” he said.

     “It does. Is it warm?”

     “Yeah, it’s great. Thanks, Mel.”

     “Good.” She leaned in and kissed him again. “And I can’t tell who you are. Maybe you should rob a bank or something, stranger.” She giggled and went back to work.

     From his pocket, he felt the familiar buzz that let him know he’d received a new message—undoubtedly from Sara-from-the-internet. From inside his mask, he felt the familiar sensation of guilty giddiness well inside him. He left the kitchen and headed for his room to drop off his coat. He pulled his phone free and looked at the message.

*seeing you in the bottom of my shoe, i slip my foot back inside. It glides over you until it covers you completely, then i shake my foot until ur tiny body slips down under my toes* kiss them, little man. Now.

     God, did she get him. Melanie didn’t understand the fantasy at all—he had mentioned it a couple of times, but it had never worked out well. She would get quiet and uncomfortable, and she  would ask a couple of questions but eventually he would drop it based on her reactions alone. She didn’t understand why he wanted to be small. She could get into the idea of domination every now and then, sure, but it wasn’t her strong suit and he had learned not to ask it of her too often. But after the awkward conversations about his fetish he had put it on the backburner to stay for awhile.

     Sara, on the other hand, was more than willing to be his goddess, and he was thankful to have some sort of outlet. He loved being the little man. He could be Eli with Melanie, and little man with Sara-from-Oklahoma. They were separate identities, not even the same person.

     But not all secrets can stay hidden, and everyone must choose who they are. It is always merely a question of time.

     He heard Melanie in the kitchen, and he imagined what it would be like to be riding along on her foot, desperately clinging to her skin as she walked around the kitchen. To be her little man. He reveled in the fantasy, and somewhere in the corner of his mind he decided he needed to pitch the scenario to Sara.

     He shed his coat and stowed his phone away again, then prepared to spend a romantic evening with Melanie before he left for the trip tomorrow afternoon. He began to leave the room until he realized he was still wearing the ski mask. He had forgotten it was still there, almost like it had become a part of him. He tugged it free and tossed it on the dresser before making his way back to the kitchen.