The tiny man reached the bottom step on the towering flight of stairs that led out of the alien-looking basement into the gigantic but familiar surroundings of his home.
He stopped, numb from shock, as he realized he could never hope to scale even one of the steep steps, let alone the entire flight of stairs.
"I'm trapped," he said aloud, his tiny voice swallowed by the immensity of the basement.
Not only trapped, he had no supplies, no tools, not even any clothes. He felt it might have been better if the giant had simply crushed him unknowingly beneath his boots.
The naked little man wandered across the vast plain of cold, gray concrete. He passed beneath the colossal weight bench, which looked liked the size of some mysterious ancient monument. Its true purpose was certainly beyond him now. He saw a set of little-used barbells in the distance, and marveled that he had once been capable of holding them in one hand.
He told himself that someone would come looking for him.
"Dammit," he cried, realizing how delusional such thoughts were. No one would ever think to look for a tiny man lost in his own basement.
In a month, Diego or someone else from the extermination service might, possibly, return to the basement.
The surroundings looked sterile and barren. No food, no water. Well, he thought, his exile might be short-lived without those crucial necessities. He wouldn't be able to hold out an entire month and, even if he did, what hope did he have of contacting a giant? He had already tried and failed miserably.
As bleak as his future looked, he pushed himself. He made a list of goals. First, he needed shelter and, perhaps, some sort of clothing. Then, he would make an effort to scavenge for food and water.
The distant horizon of stacked cardboard boxes held potential. With little other choice, he trudged toward the cardboard cityscape.