Brad yawned, rubbing the back of his neck as he shuffled out of bed, barely awake. The early morning light seeped through the blinds, casting a faint glow over his messy room. With a lazy stretch, he planted his bare feet on the hardwood floor, the soles picking up traces of lint, crumbs, and grit. Without a second thought, he opened the door and padded down the hallway, already picturing his first cup of coffee.
Meanwhile, his roommate was in a silent panic. Reduced to the size of an insect overnight, he found himself staring up in horror as Brad’s massive foot loomed above. Before he could scream, the rough, calloused sole slammed down, pinning him helplessly. He was embedded in the warm, slightly damp surface of Brad’s foot, his tiny form plastered between the faint ridges of Brad’s skin, mixed in with the detritus from the floor. The smell of stale sweat and dust filled his senses, suffocating him as he twisted and struggled, only to realize that the grime binding him to Brad’s sole was far stronger than he was.
Brad, blissfully unaware of the tiny man now plastered to his foot, continued his morning routine. Each step was a thunderous impact for his trapped roommate, a jarring quake that drove him deeper into the grooves of Brad’s sole.
At the top of the stairs, Brad paused, stretching again and scratching his chest, letting out another yawn. The tiny figure on his sole, disoriented but still conscious, gasped for air in the brief reprieve, only to be thrown into a new wave of chaos as Brad descended the steps. Each step down was a brutal, unpredictable plunge, the sharp angles of Brad’s foot pressing his roommate into new crevices, each footfall more punishing than the last.
By the time Brad reached the kitchen, his roommate had long since given up hope of escaping on his own. As Brad moved around, preparing his coffee, he stomped and shifted his weight on the cold tile, unwittingly grinding his roommate against his foot with each casual step.
Finally, coffee in hand, Brad ambled into the living room, settling onto the couch with a satisfied sigh. He lifted his left foot and rested it on his knee, unknowingly giving his roommate a brief glimpse of freedom—a chance to see the towering, familiar surroundings of the living room. Pressed firmly against the rough surface of Brad’s sole, his tiny roommate could only flail and gasp, his vision blurred as he looked out across a world that was once ordinary but now impossibly vast.
Brad was lost in his phone, scrolling idly, completely unaware of the desperate, bug-sized figure clinging to the bottom of his foot. Each swipe of his thumb, every sip of coffee, only served to emphasize the vastness of the oblivious world Brad inhabited, a world where his tiny roommate was nothing more than another speck of dust, helplessly glued to the rough, indifferent surface of his foot.