She ran as hard as she could. Her little legs
didn't propel her far. To her, if she did not
watch the massive room around her, she felt
as if she was going somewhere, fast -- the wind
in her hair, the pain of her legs and feet,
soles slapping against the ground -- she really
pumped hard, and she felt it; how she felt it.
But, in that huge space, the distance covered
was pitiful at the same time, like running in a
wide-open field; everything seemed so far
away. Especially since she was barely a
centimeter tall, running across a kitchen tile.

No -- she had to concentrate on something
else. The slapping of her feet. Her breathing.
The way the air sounded in her ears.

She had to concentrate on something...

Something...

Something other than the booming of his
now colossal feet. No, not colossal. He was normal.
 She was just pitifully small.

She had first heard them above her on the
second floor, coming down the stairs that led
right to the kitchen. She was still in a daze,
then, wondering how she shrunk. But
then she realized where she was -- in the way.

In the center of the kitchen was an island
that split the room into two possible tiled
pathways. She was in the center of one of them,
and needed to get out of there in case he
walked down that one. Since the glasses and
everything useful were on her side of the
island, the fear was almost deafening.

But she still ran. A small speck -- if observed,
one would barely notice her moving. She had
crossed maybe half a tile and still had three
more to go. Three more vast white planes until
 she could hide under the lip of the island; through
an obstacle course of insignificant dust and debris.

His footsteps were quick. They weren’t mercifully
slow. He moved much, much faster than she
 could ever imagine. When he suddenly arrived,
jumping down the last two steps with a loud
smack of his bare feet against the kitchen tile,
she froze. He was massive. Impossibly massive.
His movements were fluid and rapid -- his feet
slapping, his jeans swishing, his eyes looking far
above her.

He reached the island in a few blinding strides.
Don’t come my way, don’t come my way, don’t --

She didn’t get to pray long. He went her way.

And, shortly after that, before she could begin
to pray that she would not be stepped on, one
of his impossibly large bare feet lifted over her,
 casting her in a brief shadow, before it slapped
 down to meet its dark outline. She was crushed
instantly, collected with the other particles on the
 floor that were too small to notice, pasted to the
bottom of his foot.

***

I came downstairs for a drink, wondering where
she was -- my girlfriend. Well, I guess, anyway. She
has been kind of getting on my nerves lately, to tell
 the truth. But that is another story.

I took the last two stairs in one go and went to get
 a cup, filled it with water, and went back upstairs.

I sat back down to unpause my game and
crossed my leg, ankle on my knee: I saw
that my sole was a little dirty. Something barely
large enough to see was stuck there, an odd shape
and… I leaned in…

The tiny, tangled mass of my girlfriend. Stuck to
the bottom of my foot.

You might find this inappropriate, but the first inclination
I had was to laugh, and I did. I continued to play with
 her flattened there, unable to keep an amused smirk
from my face.