It was an unreal experience, watching the family assemble for breakfast. Your hiding spot, near a vent in the room's corner, also happened to be right near the entrance, giving you a great view of how small you were. Their massive feet, bare, socked, nylon-ed, stomped past you. How were you supposed to get their attention when the smallest toe of the smallest person was the size of a car? You lean back on the vent cover and put your face in your hands.
Click
What was that? It came from behind, from the vent...
You turn to run, but the gust of hot air catches you and sends you spinning into the sky. Hot air rises, after all, and you're caught in the biggest updraft of your life. You, and some pieces of dust that were mostly smaller than you, tumbled away from the corner, into the center of the room. Most of the debris fell harmlessly to the floor, though a few did collide with the giants.
Your fate was different. Perhaps because of your density or your odd shape, you drifted towards the table. towards the family's food. "No no no!" Gently, you began to sink to the bowl in front of the bouncing, skyscraper sized little girl as she struggled with the milk carton. "Please, no!" You flapped your arms, alternating between fish-like and bird-like motions, but your path was set by air currents, not you.
"So, what's going on after school?" From nowhere an older woman appears, the family's mother. She grabbed the carton from her daughter's hands and began pouring it into the cereal below. You screamed again but the torrent flooded by, missing you by only an inch. Still, its power sent you hurdling away, further in the air and across the table.
"I have soccer practice," states the teen girl as you soar by. Her mouth stretches open, pulling in huge current of air. She's yawning, without even bothering to cover her mouth? The force is strong, pulling you towards the soaking cavern. "Stop! Stop!" Your shouts fall away in the wind, but as you pass her lips she exhales, pushing an endless volume of morning breath in your direction. You hurdle away, back to the unknown.
"Great. Do I have to wait around for her?" It's the teen boy this time who's words throw you about. It smells no better than the girl's did, but at least he was gracious enough to not suck you in his mouth.
"No, I can pick her up. What are you doing, though, that it's an issue?" The dad speaks, but despite his greater size, you're blown about less roughly. In fact, it seems like you've descended past mouth level. You realize what's going to happen. The bowl of cereal looms larger than an Olympic pool, and the rough milky seas is all that's below. But who's bowl is it?
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