Chris pulled into the driveway, weary from a long day at work. He fished his phone from the cup holder and dialled Sarah’s number, as per their tradition to call one another when they got home. No answer. Not bothered and thinking she was still at work, he opened their alarm system app and tapped to disarm the house alarm system, a usual routine that he didn’t even need to look at the screen to do it. The app “confirmed” deactivation, and Chris got out of the car and trekked towards the house.
—
Meanwhile, inside the house, Sarah’s stomach flipped as her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She recognized the ringtone immediately—Chris was calling. He only ever called when he arrived home, a habit she’d learned to expect. Her hands trembled as she picked it up, staring at the screen.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, dread pooling in her stomach. Peering out the living room window, she saw his car parked in the driveway, Chris sitting inside it looking at his phone. Her breath caught, panic spreading like wildfire. “He’s home early. He’s not supposed to be home yet!”
"Relax," Alex said, lounging on the couch with his feet up. “It’s not like he’s going to burst in here and—”
“Shut up!” Sarah hissed. She began grabbing his clothes in a frenzy, tossing them into a heap. “You have to go! Like, now!”
“Babe,” Alex said with a smirk, “he won’t even notice me. I’ll just hide in the closet or something. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
Sarah’s hands trembled as she shoved a shoe at him, hearing the car door slam. “Are you insane? The closet? This isn’t some stupid sitcom—he’ll kill us both! Get your ass out the door!”
“But I’m only wearing pants—”
“I don’t care! Go!”
Suddenly, a loud beep-beep-beep echoed through the house. Sarah froze, the colour draining from her face.
"Uh, what’s that?" Alex asked, finally looking concerned.
Sarah’s voice came out in a whisper. “The alarm… Oh God, the alarm’s…a-armed! How-”
"What does that mean?" Alex said, his voice rising in panic.
“It means I need the—” Sarah’s breath hitched, her words choking off between gasping breaths as the beeping grew louder, faster.
She never even finished her sentence about needing the code to stop it. A sharp, mechanical whir filled the room, cutting through the air like a blade, followed by a pulsing red light that swept across the space, scanning every corner. Alex froze, his mouth opening to speak, but no sound came out.
The beeping reached an unbearable crescendo. Then, in an instant, a bright flash erupted—like a blinding camera flash—filling the room before vanishing just as quickly as it had come. The silence that followed was deafening.
—
Sliding his phone into his pocket, Chris stepped into the house, irritation etched across his face. The persistent flashing of the alarm system greeted him, grating against his already frayed nerves. He paused in the entryway, frowning as he glanced at his phone.
“I thought I…?” he muttered, his confusion deepening.
Setting his bag down with a heavy thud, Chris moved to the system near the door. The alarm’s incessant urgency seemed to grow louder with every step, its high-pitched tone needling at his patience. With a sigh of frustration, he punched in the code, silencing the noise at last.
Unbeknownst to him, the simple action ensured the tiny figures now trapped on the floor would remain that way, their fates sealed by his unwitting mistake. The alarm system, programmed to neutralize intruders, had done its job perfectly.
Chris shook his head, muttering as he turned toward the living room. “Stupid thing could’ve shrunk me,” he said under his breath with a scoff. “What’s the point of a smart system if it doesn’t work?”
—
The sound of Chris’s voice reverberated like a god’s decree to the tiny figures trapped on the floor. Sarah’s heart pounded as she craned her neck upward, staring at the towering figure of her boyfriend fumbling with the security system. Her screams of terror, frantic and desperate, were swallowed whole by the sheer vastness of the room, her pleas for help reduced to nothing more than whispers in the expanse.
Chris turned, his usual routine taking over as he began tapping the toes of his boots against the floor. Each impact sent shuddering vibrations through the ground, dislodging clumps of dirt and grass from his workday. Sarah flinched as the debris rained down, the chunks falling like meteors behind his massive foot. Alex, shrunken alongside her, was stumbling nearby, coughing from the clouds of dust stirred up by the debris.
“Chris!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation. “Chris, you shrunk us! Look down! Look-! No, here-! Stop-! Don’t-!”
Her words faltered, choked off by fear, as Chris leaned down and tugged off his boots. This time, the dirt fell all around her and Alex, larger pieces landing with heavy thuds that sent tremors rippling through the floor. The pungent stench of sweat and leather burst forth from the boots, a noxious wave that enveloped them both. Sarah gagged and covered her nose, glancing at Alex as he doubled over, his tiny body shaking with the effort to breathe.
The discarded boots slammed down onto the floor near them, the impact sending another quake through the boards that knocked Sarah off her feet and Alex onto his hands and knees. A fresh wave of dirt rolled their way, gritty and relentless, forcing Sarah to crawl backward, her chest heaving. The trapped air from within the boots slowly escaped, wafting toward them and intensifying the already overwhelming stench. Sarah scrambled to her feet, coughing and gasping, while Alex struggled just to sit upright, his face pale with fear.
Above them, Chris peeled off his damp socks and flung them aside. The socks landed atop the boots with a heavy plop, the damp fabric slumping into peaks and valleys like sweat-soaked mountains. The acrid smell intensified, filling the air with a suffocating musk that made Sarah’s head spin.
“Chris, please!” Sarah shrieked, waving her arms wildly, her voice breaking with the effort. “We’re down here! You shrunk us!”
Chris’s bare feet hit the floor with a deafening slap, the sound reverberating through the room like thunderclaps. Each step was a seismic event, the ground trembling beneath Sarah and Alex as the giant figure moved. Sarah screamed again as the shadow of his foot passed over them, the massive wall of flesh displacing the air with enough force to knock her over. Alex scrambled to grab her arm, but she shook him off, desperate to get away as Chris’s sole crashed down mere inches from where they had stood. The vibrations rattled Sarah’s teeth as she scrambled to her feet, her mind reeling. Alex had been pushed farther away by the impact, still struggling to rise, as Chris strode away, his heavy steps carrying him toward the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Chris opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting the cap off with a flick of his wrist and tossing it onto the counter. He took a long, satisfying swig, oblivious to the tiny pair pleading for his attention in the other room. The faint beeping of the alarm system still echoed in his ears, an annoying reminder of its earlier malfunction.
“God, what a piece of junk,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry. He’d already spent too much time on hold with tech support this week, and the thought of calling them again made his head ache. Shrugging it off, he made his way back toward the couch, his mind already on the beer and whatever show he planned to watch.— “What did you do to us, Sarah?!” Alex growled, his voice shaking as he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to turn around. His panicked eyes darted between her and the vast expanse of the living room, his breath quickening.
“Nothing!” Sarah yelled, jerking away from his grip. “Chris did it! He must have rearmed the system from his car without realizing—”
“You bitch!” Alex cut her off, his face red with fury. “You think this is just bad luck? Turn us back! Now!”
“I can’t!” Sarah screamed, her voice cracking. “Chris has to report the accident to the security company. They’re the only ones who can reverse it!”
“What, they’re going to grow us back?” Alex spat, his voice dripping with venom. “You think he’s going to be all sunshine and gratitude when he finds his cheating girlfriend and the asshole she’s screwing around with? Sarah, so help me God, if you don’t—”
His words died on his lips as the rumbling returned, shaking the floor beneath their feet. Both of them froze as the booming steps grew louder, each one like a distant explosion that made their tiny bodies quiver. Chris was coming back.
“Move!” Sarah shrieked, grabbing Alex’s arm and pulling him forward. But in her panic, her grip faltered, and Alex stumbled. He tripped on a stray hair on the ground, falling hard onto his knees.
“Sarah, wait!” Alex called out, reaching for her, but she didn’t turn back. The shadow of Chris’s foot passed over them like an eclipse, and Sarah scrambled faster, driven by pure instinct. Behind her, Alex tried to push himself up, but it was too late.
Chris’s foot came down with a deafening boom, the force of air slamming into Sarah like a wave, throwing her tiny body forward. She hit the ground hard, coughing as vibrations rattled her bones. Shaking, she turned back as the massive foot lifted and moved away, the floor trembling beneath her with every step Chris took toward the couch.
“Alex?” she whispered, her voice cracking. She stared at the vast expanse where Chris’s foot had landed. The smooth hardwood was gone, replaced by an oily impression—a swamp-like footprint slogged with glistening pools of sweat, sock lint, and stray hairs. The air was heavy with damp heat, carrying the faint, sour stench of his step.
Her eyes darted frantically across the mess. Faint streaks of red marred the edges of the footprint, blending with the debris. Her stomach twisted violently. “Alex?” she called again, louder this time, but the word came out like a choked gasp.
He’s fine, she told herself. He had to be. Maybe he’d run. Maybe he was hiding, waiting for her. Her gaze skittered over the footprint again, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—make sense of the streaks of red or the mangled clump of fabric caught in the grime. She stumbled backward, forcing herself to look away.
The couch groaned as Chris settled onto it, the vibrations jolting her from her thoughts. The ground trembled slightly as his feet settled on top of the couch, but Sarah’s focus was fixed on the couch. If she could climb high enough, he’d see her. He had to. —Chris tossed the bag of chips onto the couch beside him, letting out a long sigh as he sank into the cushions. He kicked up his feet, resting them at the base of the couch as he reached for the remote. The faint smell of sweat wafted from his soles, but he barely noticed.
He flicked through the channels aimlessly, still grumbling under his breath. “Damn alarm system,” he muttered, popping open his phone. “Guess I’ll need to call those idiots again tomorrow.”
—
Sarah began her climb, her tiny hands gripping the coarse fabric of the couch as she hauled herself upward. Each pull on the rough surface sent sharp pains through her strained arms, her entire body trembling under the relentless scale of her surroundings. The oppressive enormity of her situation pressed down on her like a suffocating weight. She refused to let herself think about Alex—he was fine, she repeated to herself, over and over, clinging to the words like a mantra. He had to be fine.
The journey felt endless, each inch upward sapping her strength until she finally heaved herself over the edge of the cushion. Collapsing onto the soft surface, she gasped for air, her body quivering from exertion. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to lie still, letting the texture of the couch cushion press against her skin. Relief trickled in, fragile and fleeting—until her gaze traveled upward.
Chris’s feet loomed above her, impossibly massive, their sheer size a cruel reminder of her helplessness. Her breath hitched as she took in every detail—the faint ridges of his soles, the way his toes wiggled lazily at the top, their overgrown nails catching the dim light. The faint musk of sweat hung heavily in the air, turning her stomach as she crawled forward, her limbs trembling. She could see the faint sheen of perspiration clinging to his skin, each bead glistening like some grotesque reminder of his unawareness. Her gaze locked onto the ball of his left foot, where something dark and smeared marred the pale surface.
A red stain glistened, streaked across the creases like a morbid signature. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths shallow and uneven. Something was embedded in the smear, small and mangled—barely recognizable. A scrap of fabric clung to it, its color muted and soaked with blood.
“No,” she rasped, her voice barely audible. Her body felt heavier with every step forward, each movement an effort against the rising dread in her chest. “No, no…”
The truth slammed into her like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs. The fabric scrap—it was Alex’s pants. The stain—it was Alex.
A strangled cry escaped her lips, low and guttural, rising into a piercing wail that echoed across the vast expanse of the couch. “Alex!” she screamed, her voice cracking as raw sobs wracked her body. She clawed at the cushion beneath her, tears spilling freely and soaking into the fabric. “Alex! No! Please, no!”
Above her, Chris shifted in his seat, his movements sending faint tremors through the couch. His toes flexed absently, the simple, mechanical motion completely indifferent. Sarah froze as his feet rubbed together, the casual act sending ripples through the air that seemed to mock her anguish. The smear of blood on his foot shifted with the motion, the mangled remains of her lover quivering under the unfeeling friction.
“Stop!” she screamed, her voice breaking into a hoarse, desperate sob. “Stop, please!” Her tiny hands reached out, trembling, as she watched a final flick of Chris’s foot send the bloody fragment flying. It landed in a crumpled heap far beyond her reach, nothing more than a forgotten speck on the vast couch.
“Chris!” she screamed again, her voice raw and ragged. “Please, look! Alex—he’s—” Her words crumbled into incoherence, the weight of despair crashing over her. She collapsed onto the cushion, pounding her fists weakly against the fabric as sobs consumed her.
—
Above her, Chris leaned back into the couch, stretching his legs out comfortably as he tried to shake off the stress of his workday. The house was quiet—eerily so. The faint squeaks and shrieks from his tiny girlfriend below never registered to his ears, lost in the vast space between their worlds. The only sounds he heard were the low hum of the television and the gentle clink of his beer bottle against the coffee table.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Chris unlocked it with a swipe and began tapping out a message, his lips quirking into a faint smile.
“You free tomorrow?” he typed.
The reply came almost instantly, the cheerful tone of the response making him chuckle. “Of course,” the message read. “Same place?”
Chris’s smirk deepened as he set the phone down, taking another swig from his beer. The cold drink slid down smoothly, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He rested his head against the back of the couch, his mind wandering.
Sarah never asked where he went during her long shifts. She was always too busy, too distracted by her own routine to notice. And honestly, it was better that way—simpler. She had her world, and he had his. Neither needed to know too much about the other’s secrets.