“Calm down, John.”
“What? Calm? I am calm. Calm and perfectly…sane. I mean, any normal bloke would just imagine a four inch tall woman telling him he’s actually an alien from outer space. And offering said tiny imaginary woman beans on toast is only polite, logical, and-and-and–” John Smith stammered as the more than slightly burnt toast jumped straight out of the toaster, throwing him off his already flustered rant. He tried to catch the flying bread in a knee-jerk reaction, succeeding only in hurting his fingers and swatting the food across the counter, thankfully away from Zepheera.
“This is crazy!” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air in utter exasperation. With a white-knuckled grip on the counter, he rounded on the self-proclaimed borrower. “More than that–it’s impossible! There’s no such thing as aliens, and I’m not even sure if you’re real! Tiny people just don’t exist. And even if they…if you are real, then…why me? Why did you have to come to me??” John squeezed his eyes shut as though it would make everything go away, anxiously rocking back and forth a little. This was all too much for him to handle at once.
But a light touch brushing against his knuckles made his eyes snap open and focus on Zepheera, who had laid her own tiny hand on his. His breath caught; she had looked small before, but now in direct comparison to his hand he felt so terribly large. He couldn’t help but stare in wonder at how she somehow found the nerve to approach a comparative giant who could hypothetically grab her at any time, one who had been shouting at her not a moment ago. For that, John thought she was an extraordinarily brave figment of his imagination.
“I’m real,” she promised. He watched as she leaned down and took hold of his first finger where it sat curled in a formerly tense fist. She lifted it, uncoiled it, and laid the very tip of it against her cheek, half-leaning against her shoulder. John could feel her soft, fine hair, her miniscule ear, the warmth of her skin, and he could no longer deny her existence. When she saw the recognition in his eyes, she shifted the finger against her shoulder–to sit more comfortably, John could assume.
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but you need to understand that it had to be you. You don’t know it yet, but we’re friends, you and I. I’m supposed to be watching out for you in case of trouble. And I’m afraid, John, that we really, really need to talk.”
Zepheera’s voice was so kind and sincere, and a small part of John could not resist that look in her teeny violet eyes. “Shall I get started on those beans then?”
She smiled, sending a bubble of warmth through John’s heart. He’d made her happy, and for whatever reason he was extremely proud of that. “Yeah, I think you better had. Gonna be a long chat.”
John waited for Zepheera to fully let his finger go before carefully lifting it away and walking to the cabinet by the stove.
“And that’s four and a half inches tall, thanks very much!”
Despite himself, John giggled at the correction.
Bonus post celebrating 20 followers! Thanks so much, you guys!