Donnie always enjoyed eating lunch in the park across the street from his downtown office job. He wasn't fond of small talk, so eating here not only satisfied his daily vitamin D requirement, but saved him from the awkwardness of lunchtime break room chatter.
He was proud of himself, he had come a long way in a relatively short period of time, from the depth of depression, to the beginnings of a new life.
He'd managed to find a relatively clean and affordable apartment not too far from work, and had settled into a comfortable new routine. All things considered, he was doing well compared to a year ago, when it all fell apart.
Sarah Wexler, a name that would forever live in infamy as long a Donnie would live. She was his first love, the woman he was set to spend the rest of his life with, and the monster that destroyed it all, in one short night.
They met in high school, Grade 10 to be exact. Donnie was never very good at talking to girls, which was why he and Sarah had hit it off so well. She was shy, introverted and bookish, and he was short, awkward and rail thin, with a frame easily swallowed up by his oversized jacket.
They'd hit it off well, and the rest was supposed to be, as they say, history.
High school came and went, as did college, yet despite the odds, Sarah and Donnie stayed together, a picture-perfect romance. Perhaps it was their preference for staying in rather than going out, their small and intimate social circle, or simply the fact that Sarah wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Whatever the reason, they had beaten the odds and endured the long game. Their reward would be the quaint, simple, yet beautiful wedding and a lifetime of memories to share they'd both always wanted.
Sarah had it all planned right down to the last centerpiece. It was the wedding she had dreamed of since she was a little girl. A library themed wedding, with an arch built out of old books, seating tags fashioned after library book stickers, even their wedding cake was made to look like a pile of old books.
They would have three children, and after they'd saved up enough for a down payment on a small house in the country, Sarah would renovate a little shed in the backyard into her own personal little nook. They would have a cute garden and raise chickens, goats and ducks. Their children would be connected to the land, with an honest work ethic and old world values. There would be a coy pond and a little greenhouse for flowers and herbs.
Donnie would come home from work, sweep his three daughters up into his arms, and read to them while she finished supper.
It was going to be the picture perfect, most wonderful life she could imagine.
And then she ruined it all.
Sarah had not really wanted a wedding shower, let alone a bachelorette party to begin with. She didn't drink, wasn't a fan of staying out late, and couldn't really even tolerate large crowds for very long without feeling worn and exhausted. But Heather, her ‘bestie’ and maid of honour, had all but insisted.
Sarah had always played it safe, she was a ‘good girl’, she deserved one last chance at a good time before tying herself down to a lifetime of monotony.
Sarah didn't really see it that way, but had caved under pressure, and agreed to let Heather do her thing, permitting her to a “simple and lowkey” get-together.
The night started off simple enough, a small, intimate gathering of Sarah's closest friends and a few of her cousins meeting for drinks at a quaint little bar. Sarah even allowed herself a glass of wine or two…or three.
Drinks and shower games gave way to strippers and exotic dancers, and before Sarah knew it, she was far over her head, dabbling in strange and dangerous territory. Their small, intimate social gathering exploded into the wildest night Sarah ever knew, and Sarah indulged in every bit of the devil's decadent desserts.
She shoved dollar bills on tight, skimpy underwear worn by muscle bound men with glistening, fragrant, oil rubbed skin. She danced on stage while exotic Boy toys gyrated and danced around her. She licked chocolate syrup off muscle bound, hairless chests, and screamed and giggled with her wedding party as they stared up at mostly naked men dancing around a pole to club beats.
It all felt innocent enough, until of course it wasn't.
Edwardo, well that was his state name anyhow, was supposed to be a joke, a personal escort hired by the girls to show Sarah a good time, that was it.
He was supposed to sweep her off her feet, give her a personal lap dance and whisk her off to the back room, all in good fun.
It was, as Heather later insisted, supposed to just be a joke. Nobody, Sarah included, suspected it would go as far as it had.
But the beat of the music, the fragrance of pheromones, and the alcohol lowering ambitions brought Sarah to a fever pitch, unlocking a lifetime of repressed emotions. What had resulted was a passionate, sweaty, dream shattering affair, that would rob Donnie of the life he'd been building, and Sarah of the fist she'd intended to reserve for Donnie.
Nobody in the wedding party ever fessed up to the act, but pictures had been taken and shared and had gone viral. The entire night had been shared for the world to see, on various social media accounts.
There was no denying it, there was no defense, not that Sarah could even think of one had she tried.
The blowout was fierce, passionate and quick, the result, a complete breakdown in communication and the end of a decade long romance and the shattering of a future that was never meant to be.
That led Donnie to where he was currently. New apartment, new job, new life. It had taken nearly a year, and months of therapy to get here, but he was finally happy with where he was, he had to completely cut Sarah out of his life, the memory of what they had, and the pain of losing what they could have had was too much. There was just too much at stake to risk letting her back in.
“Hey Donnie.” Sarah's voice was absolutely unmistakable. It was quiet, middle ranged with a familiar nasally quality to it.
Donnie’s eyes remained on his phone, thumbing through social media, one short video at a time. In his other hand he held the remains of an apple, mostly picked clean leaving nothing but core and seeds, tiny brown oval shaped dots filled with cyanide, an apparently harmless little thing with a poisonous center, just like Sarah.
“I…um…drive by here a lot, and noticed you like to eat outside. I'm not stalking you or anything, honest.” Sarah quickly pointed across the way to a parked car, a small Chevy cruze, gold in color with rust creeping up on the wheel wells. This was likely some small effort to prove the legitimacy of her claim.
Donnie kept his eyes on his phone, thumbing aggressively through videos without taking time to comprehend what was being presented.
Sarah sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Donnie, please just talk to me?”
Nothing. Donnie had to stick to his guns, this was part of the healing process. There was nothing Sarah could say now he hadn't already heard, and nothing she could say that would take back what was done. The danger of listening to her, far outweighed the benefit of whatever excuse or apology she had to offer.
“I just want to talk, can't you just give me that? Please?” Sarah's voice hinged on the edge of despair, there was a tickle in her throat as she felt a well of tears attempting to force their way to the surface. She turned, gathered herself, then looked back to an empty bench.
Donnie stood, making his way to the garbage. His office had a passcode Sarah didn't know, all he had to do was get there and he was home free. He chucked the apple core and empty brown paper bag into the iron bin, then made for the path, quickening his pace when he heard shuffling footsteps behind him.
“Donnie, I really just want to talk. Please, can you just give me that? I know you're probably still angry, and you have that right, but I just need…I just have to talk.” Sarah was frustrated now, Donnie could tell from the way her voice cracked. Sarah didn't yell often, it was as if her voice didn't quite have the ability to even reach that level.
When Donnie quickened his steps, his face twisting into a bitter scowl, fists tightening into white knuckled balls, the decision Sarah had been mulling over was sealed. Out of her purse came a small, black and grey remote control, with two simple buttons. She looked around to assure the coast was clear, pointed the remote at Donnie, and closed her eyes, thumb pressing down on the green button.
“I'm sorry Donnie, I really didn't want it to go down this way, but you're not leaving me much of a choice.” Sarah whispered, as a concentrated red beam shot out from the small device, hitting Donnie square in the center of his back.
Donnie felt a sharp pain in his back like being stung by a wasp, he let out a sharp hiss, and reached back to slap his back with his hand, but never quite made it that far before his vision grew hazy, his head began to spin, and he felt himself falling.
Sarah opened her eyes in a panic, her heart pounded like a hummingbird's wings, each beat sending tremors through her chest, the rapid, uneven rhythm causing her body to teeter on the edge of fight, flight, or collapse.
He was gone.
“M…maybe it missed and…” Sarah whimpered, praying that maybe Donnie had escaped. She looked through thick glasses to where he had just been, waking with quickened paces over. Sure enough, on the cobblestone path, between her black, suede low heel VIVAIA short boots, lay a small, prone, unconscious Donnie, reduced to the size of a small mouse, no taller than her finger.
“It worked?” Sarah gasped, staring down at Donnie, then quickly to the remote in her hand. “Oh my God, it worked!” she nearly screamed, almost dropping the remote in her state of panic.
No.
She would need that later if she wanted to restore him to normal.
Sarah fumbled with the small black and grey device, with cold, clammy, sweaty hands she put it back into her small, brown leather purse, then looked down once more to the tiny, toy sized man laying on his side at her feet.
She felt her breath leaving, unable to replenish it fast enough, her breathing now fast and shallow as she fought the urge to turn and run.
It worked, she'd shrunken him. It wasn't supposed to work, but it did. Now he was small, helpless and completely and utterly at her mercy.
“Mmmmmmm…” Donnie groaned, slowly starting to stir, a sound she only just heard over the white noise of the park around her.
He was starting to wake up.
Sarah's eyes drifted away from Donnie, to the trees, birds and squirrels all around them. All now threats to Donnie’s life. She couldn't run, she couldn't leave him now, not like this. She had to face him, face the absolute rage and anger that would likely come when he realized what she had done. Somehow, that was the first thing on her mind, rather than the potential consequences she would face if anyone found out what she'd done.
“Oh God, what do I. What am I supposed to do?” Sarah looked back to Donnie, crouching down on her haunches to get a little closer to Donnie. She wanted to reach out and touch him to see if he was real, but couldn't bring herself to do it, as if he was a hot coal that had just fallen out of the fire.
“My head…” Donnie’s voice was small and high, but still very much his. Right away he could tell something was off. Things sounded wrong, and his whole body ached and there was a terrible ringing in his ears.
He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light and waited for his vision to clear from the hazy blur. A cool breeze swept over Donnie, the uneven surface beneath his hands felt strangely vast, each dip and ridge pressing into him like a rough, alien landscape. Blinking, he stood, or at least tried to, his balance was off, causing him to fall back to his rear end.
“Urg, my head.” He rubbed his arms as a dull ache settled in his limbs.
The world around him seemed... off. The trees stretched impossibly high, their branches swaying like distant canopies. A leaf skittered past, its crisp edges crackling like paper in a silent room. Donnie frowned. It was just a leaf, wasn’t it? But it was so big. Too big. His fingers brushed against the ground, tracing the familiar roughness of cobblestone, yet the gaps between the stones gaped like trenches. A deep, rhythmic sound rumbled through the air. Footsteps. Heavy. Distant, yet powerful enough to send a tremor through his chest. His breath hitched. He turned his hands over, staring at them—unchanged, normal. But nothing else was. His pulse pounded as realization crept in, cold and undeniable. The world hadn’t changed. He had.
“Donnie, sweetie, maybe don't try to stand so soon.” That voice was familiar, though where it was once soft and gentle, instead now resonated all around him, each overwhelming syllable like a grand melody from a vast echo chamber.
It was Sarah, only it couldn't be. Her voice could barely raise above normal speaking volume. “Sarah?”
Sarah, the petite woman he'd known so long, who barely stood up his chest at 5 '2, now loomed above him like a great statue of an ancient colossus. He followed enormous black suede boots to long, pale legs that fed onto a dark blue floral skirt. Pencil thin arms, now thick like giant douglas firs rested on her knees, white blouse a cute polka dot pattern hugged modest breasts, now absolutely enormous both easily each several thousand tonnes. Finally, her cute, oval shaped face peered down at him, black hair cascading down her shoulders, framing her worried expression, delicate lips curled into a slight frown as warm Hazel eyes narrowed to half moons as she watched him closely.
He couldn't speak, move, or even draw a full breath. Sarah loomed before him; absolutely enormous in every imaginable way. His Sarah, the small, mousy, socially awkward woman he'd spent half his life with, now towered over him like a divine colossus.
"I… what did… how did… what did you do?" Donnie managed to squeak out, his voice trembling and fading as a wave of dizziness washed over him. His vision blurred at the edges, and his hands began to shake uncontrollably. The world seemed to slow, and as the overwhelming weight of her presence pressed in, he felt himself slipping into darkness.
Sarah's hand slapped over her mouth as she held back a gasp. She winched, watching Donnie collapse once more, resisting the urge to reach down and catch him for fear of hurting him.
“Shit.” Sarah cried out, looking around quickly once more before drawing her attention back to Donnie before letting out a tired breath, “Well, at least he's speaking to me again? That's a start.”