Mike loved being a tiny. Journeying out of his tiny town into the big’s city was fascinating for him. The sights, the sounds. The city was overly accommodating, walkways, transportations, restaurants, everything a tiny could want. He’d never interacted with a big, they hardly seemed to notice the tinies. But he often admired them from afar as they went in with the daily hustle and bustle of life.
“Be careful in that city, you’ll get squashed!” He’d been warned so many times. But always by people who’d never been, who simply told stories akin to fairytales about a friend of a friend they once knew. Mike had never experience the supposed horror of the big’s city.
He made his way down the cement path which wove its way through the park in the middle of the city. There was a designated path for tinies, slightly elevated and with small iron cage-like bars around it for safety.
“Avoid the park! My friend Larry’s cousin’s friend Steve was snatched by a bird!”
Mike doubted it ever happened. But he always kept his eyes open just in case. He looked at the massive trees, the leaves turning dull yet somehow brilliant shades of red and yellow. He loved the autumn crispness that somehow hung in the city air. It was different that the tiny town.
He made his way to a park bench which was taller than any structure in the tiny town by far. There were steps that led up the bench for tinies, and a designated seating zone. He loved sitting on the bench and just watching the events of the day unfold. They were often mundane, but still spectacular.
As he looked at the daunting set of steps in front of him - he decided to pause and catch his breath before starting the climb up - he saw two women walk up and sit on the bench. One was older, probably sixth. Her solid white hair was poofy on her head, and her pink patterned scarf was attention grabbing. The other woman was probably in her forties. She was plump, and very pretty. Almost too pretty, a characteristic Mike guessed was probably amplified by her gigantic size compared to his tiny self.
He watched as the two women lit cigarettes, something that didn’t exist in the tiny world. Smoking was a pleasure of the bigs. Most tinies found the habit revolting, Mike found the smell of the sweet tobacco rather friendly to the senses.
“Oh look, a tiny!” He heard the older woman say, and looked up to see her looking at him, smiling and moving her fingers, wrapped gently around her cigarette, motioning in a wave.
“Mom, leave him alone. I’m sure he wants his privacy,” the other big woman said, exhaling smoke into the air, which sat weightless in front of her like a cloud in the sky momentarily before dissipating.
“Nonsense!” Her mother said. “That’s the problem with the world today! No one is friendly!”
She took a drag off of her own cigarette and exhaled her smoke slowly, Mike watching enthralled. She turned back to him and smiled.
“Tiny man, would you like help up on the bench?”
“Uh, yes ma’am, that would be nice,” Mike replied nervously. He tried hard to contain his excitement, he’d never spoke to a big before.
She placed her cigarette between her lips and let it dangle, and bent over and extended her gigantic arm towards him. His instincts told him to run, but his fascination eagerly anticipated her touch as her thumb and forefinger easily wrapped around his body, leaving only his head and shoulders exposed.
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