I work in micro-assembly. You know, circuit boards, tiny soldering joints. I spend eight hours a day looking through a loupe, that magnifying glass jewelers use. Your eyes get used to that scale, if that makes sense. You stop seeing the world as big things. You start seeing it as components. Dust motes look like boulders. A hair looks like a steel cable. It changes you. You get home and you're still looking for the little details. This was back in 2004. Spokane, Washington. I was renting this basement apartment. Cheap. Damp. But it was quiet. I was living alone at the time. No roommates, no pets. Just me and my workbench.
So it's late. Maybe two thirty in the morning. I wake up thirsty. Dry mouth. I don't turn on the lights. I know where the sink is. The place is pitch black. I mean, zero light. I had these blackout curtains up because I worked nights sometimes and needed to sleep during the day. So it's like a tomb in there. I'm shuffling to the kitchen, barefoot on the linoleum. Pour a glass of water, drink it, set the glass down. And I see something. Near the toaster. A speck. Just a dot on the counter. But it moved. Not like it was drifting. It jerked. Like a conscious movement. I fumbled in the drawer, found my loupe. I always keep one in the kitchen, don't ask me why.
I clicked it onto my eye. Leaned over the counter. Got my face about two inches away. And, there he was. A man. A tiny, tiny man. Maybe a quarter-inch tall. Hunched over a bread crumb. He had this skin, looked like a bruised peach. Kind of translucent? And he was wearing., I don't know, a tunic. Made of something pale. Maybe leather. I could see the stitching on the sides. Blue thread. Tiny, perfect stitches. detailes - Drew' I could see his fingers, too. Needle-thin. He was tearing off pieces of the bread and shoving them in his mouth. Just eating[ away]. Unaware of the giant staring down at him.
[ Story continues in the full game... ]