Diane Foxington had never been so small. While all the objects on the desk made sense to be present – the telephone, the stapler, the pen cup – none of it existed on a scale that the Governor’s mind could accept. The stapler put City Hall to shame. The telephone was a megastructure that would cover entire city blocks. The cup of pens ahead of her looked like a wastebin of the gods, each pen and pencil inside towering like a completed skyscraper waiting to be plucked out and planted in the earth.

Diane was sure her height could be measured in just a couple of millimeters at this point. The fraction of a millimeter in extra height from her high heels couldn't help her feel any less miniscule.

The wood grain beneath her spread out like a barren plain, populated only by the familiar obelisks and mountains of office supplies. A faint layer of dust clung to the desk’s surface. Walking through it felt like walking through a field of seeding dandelions. Every step kicked up puffs of dust like piles of cotton balls that came up to about her ankles.
Having started this journey near the stapler, Diane’s destination was the pen cup. Her hope was that if she could climb it, she might be able to signal the desk’s owner for help whenever they returned. Already halfway there, she was encouraged by her progress, despite how much her business heels slowed her. She’d definitely have to take those off before attempting any climbing but for now—

THUD

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Diane model
Roxanne model
Chica model

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