You text Samantha, offering to help her practice for her game tomorrow by setting up the goal in the backyard and trying to block her shots. She agrees to meet you right after practice, and you wait outside.
As you set up the plastic goal, however, you begin to feel... odd. Your stomach turns, your eyes go blurry- maybe that spill was serious after all.
Several hours later, you come to- Samantha is thudding through the grass in muddy cleats, blowing her short blonde hair out of her eyes as she rolls them. "ughh, he said he'd help me practice!" Her voice booms out like a thunderclap.
She kicks her soccer ball back and forth between ratty black cleats, her shinguards orange and shorts white and orange. You slowly realize, as you claw up the muddy yard, that she wasn't giant- you were tiny!
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