Before she shrank me, this was us.
Sarah on the couch. Barefoot. Phone in her hands. Hours like that. The relationship was already cracking — little fights, bad timing, things we never said right. She got quiet. Then she got distant. Then she barely left that sofa.
The game on her screen was always the same: crush the bugs. Tap. Stomp. Smash. She could play it for hours. Every time a bug popped under a digital foot, she looked a little more awake.
And every so often she looked up at me the same way. Not like a boyfriend.
Like the next bug.
If I tried to talk, we fought. If we fought, she went right back to the game. Bare feet on the cushion. Black polish. Thumb smashing insects that didn’t get a say.
I told myself it was just a game.
I was wrong.
— Jeff, ShrunkenMe
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