Don't cut in line
Added 2025-05-14 22:46:03 +0000 UTCShe struck a pose in the mirror, snapped a selfie, and grinned.
“Okay. Hot. Ready.”
Tonight was a date. A real one. She fluffed her bangs, checked her eyeliner—then it hit.
That feeling.
Her stomach flipped. The floor surged up. The mirror stretched.
“No. No, no—not now!”
She gasped as the room swelled around her. Her knees buckled, and in seconds, she was shrinking fast.
By the time the world stopped shifting, she already knew she was tiny.
She grabbed the measuring tape tacked to the wall, yanked it down, and glared at the number.
“Two foot eight?!”
Stupid curse. One slip-up—cut in line at a coffee shop—and some witch hexed her with a random shrinking spell. No warning. No control. Just constant, unpredictable shrinking.
Her phone buzzed.
“Leaving soon! See you there? :)”
She stared at the message on her now tablet-sized phone, thumbs struggling to type.
“Let’s hope he’s into really, really, really short girls,” she muttered.
