Laura is a volunteer at the local micro-rehab center. She was considered a kind, thoughtful young woman by the staff and was entrusted with the responsibility of giving a home to the minuscule victims of the shrinking virus. She promised to give them shelter and food, since the tiny people were much too small to fend for themselves. She returned home with a half-dozen mite-sized people in her pocket. You were among those tiny mite people.

She took you all home. She couldn’t even hear your tiny voices, not that it mattered much what you all said; She was in charge. She felt in control as the tinies squeaked in her hand. “I’ll be putting you in your new home now; don’t wriggle too much.” Laura began peeling her barefoot out of her flats. She raised the vast sole of her foot to face the collection of tinies in her palm. Her sole stretched like a landscape at your tiny size, radiating heat and the sour smell of sweat. It was littered with dirt and crumbs that would’ve taken her a second to sweep off if she had cared enough to do it. You noticed dozens of tiny people squirming on the ball of Laura’s foot. Most were mashed flat into the soft skin, others were pinned between her toes like dirt. They looked weak and neglected-- and terrified. She had a self-satisfied smile, and a look of power and authority.

Suddenly her palm moved, and she was cupped all the tinies against her bare sole. Laura smeared them across the face of her foot, squishing their tiny bodies until they were pressed tight into her sole. The squishy surface was warm and sticky. "Feel free to eat anything you find on my feet. My treat. This will be your life now. Now I probably could’ve found you little guys a nicer place to live, but I didn't. This is good enough for me, anyways. Plus it feels so good to have you all squirming under my feet. It’s like a hundred little massagers!"

She put her feet up and relaxed as she felt the squirming of many tinies on her feet. It felt like a massage.