The crescent moon is tilted in the night sky outside my bedroom window when I hear someone call, “Help me, please!”
I switch my phone from an unsent email to dial 911. Someone more qualified can handle this; I’ve got something else on my mind.
“I’m trapped!” The voice is louder.
The window’s closed, so they must be inside. Setting the phone beside the glass of water on my nightstand, I look under the bed. No one’s there.
“Something approaches!”
In the corner by the baseboards, something flails inside a spiderweb. I squint to study its dark body: about half an inch long, four legs, without wings, like no insect I’ve ever seen. It almost looks human. A spider crawls toward it, and it squirms among the sticky strands, crying for help.
I sweep a hand through the threads, slicing them instantly, and the strange creature lands softly in the center of my palm. Its long hair, brown skin, and feminine curves are more noticeable against the paler backdrop of my flesh. I’m ashamed to be staring, but she’s exotic and beautiful.
“Thank you for saving me.” Rising to her feet and brushing herself off, she seems taller. “What was that? I’m small compared to it, and to you.”
“A spider, and I’m…”
She touches her forehead and faints—vertigo from being high off the floor?—so I keep my hand steady and slog to the kitchen, where I lay her on the table. The surface must be cold and uncomfortable, so I rummage for something to cover her. I find a clean dish towel, only slightly longer than she is.
Am I hallucinating? But I know I heard her before I…
“Saved,” she murmurs, and her feet poke out from under the towel. Did she grow?
I rest my chin on the tabletop and stare. If she awakens to catch me, I might startle her, but I can’t look away. The makeshift blanket rises and falls hypnotically, and an unexpected calmness washes over me until I can only sense our synchronized breathing.
In and out, in and…
Fading…
Out.
* * *
“Good morning.” Though deeper, her melodic voice is instantly recognizable.
My eyes pop open to a sideways kitchen table, and they follow the bare feet standing there up her long legs. I’m intrigued that she’s taller and relieved she’s not completely nude, the towel precariously wrapped around her hips like a tight miniskirt.
“Your world’s far less threatening in the light.”
I jerk my head upright to find her face. She wears only the towel, her bare breasts defying gravity. Their shape, proportion on her body, and scent—something indescribable but pleasing—are perfect, and I’m simultaneously aroused and envious.
Without modesty or embarrassment, she smiles and clasps her hands. “Kindly show me more of your world. I’m only here today.”
My thoughts don’t efficiently process, so questions stumble out of my mouth. “My world? Who are you? Where’d you come from? Why only today? How do you keep growing?”
“Let’s not waste time.” Her voice is too hopeful and soothing to chastise me. “I’ll answer while we travel.”
Before her appearance interrupted me, I had emailed work to call in sick, and my other message is still unsent. Having no other plans, I shrug. “Okay.”
“Thank you again!” She claps and jumps, shaking the table, and I swear the dish rag strains as it reveals more of her thighs.
“You’ll have to wear something else.” Though I own nothing in her size, I head into the bedroom figuring a plain tee could work like a dress.
“There’s no need. No one will notice.”
Poking my head out of the closet, I gasp upon seeing her standing there, her head as high as the doorknob. Of course people will notice! I can’t keep my eyes off her, so I’m sure everyone else will be equally compelled.
“Your expression suggests doubt.” The scant towel drops as she raises an arm and beckons me.
My heart pounding, I reach for her. When our fingers touch, energy courses through me and whisks me forward. My apartment blurs as we move into the kitchen, toward the living room, and through the closed front door.
In the hallway, I shout, “How’d we do that?”
Without answering, she takes me down two flights of stairs, into the lobby, and right through the wall to the sidewalk outside. An orchestra of city sounds plays around us as she darts into traffic. Car engines roar, horns honk, elevated trains clank on their rails, but no tires screech. No cars swerve as we go to Times Square in what feels like mere seconds.
I didn’t expect a ghostly escort, at least not like this. Amid my hyperventilation, I ask, “What are you?”
“Everything’s bigger.” Is she referring to the skyscrapers or herself, now as tall as my shoulders?
Unable to shake free from her grip, I catch my breath. “What’s going on?”
She smirks and twirls, looking up at the neon signs and video screens. “Colorful and bright, yet so lifeless. Where are the natural structures?”
“Like trees and stuff? Central Park’s just—”
And we’re off again, dissolving through buildings and anything in our way. We’re not running—there’s no way I could keep up—but when I try to glimpse her feet, I see only swirling fluid. Are we floating? Flying?
Maybe I passed out last night. Maybe I did take the…
I lurch forward when we stop somewhere in the park.
“Much better.” She inhales. “I heard your world was green.”
A ring of trees surround us, the sun directly overhead. How is it noon already? People walk by, oblivious to our presence, her claim that she won’t be seen proving true.
I turn to her, mesmerized by her bright yellow irises, color I hadn’t noticed when she was smaller. Now we’re the same height.
Her fingers caress my cheeks, and I sigh. It’s been a while since anyone’s touched me this way. My eyelids flutter. My lips quiver. Then her mouth envelops mine.
My body goes limp, and her arm slides around me for support. Deeper, gentler, warmer, safer than any kiss I’ve experienced, radiating through every nerve until I feel nothing except her. She holds me, her hands gliding along my body, and her every contour presses against mine like we fit together seamlessly. As if lighter than air, my feet leave the ground.
Afraid I’m losing myself, I pull back.
“What’s wrong?” She’s calm and caring, not disappointed.
“You’re amazing, but we just met, and I’ve already got—or used to have—”
“I’m only here for one day.”
“I’m flattered you chose me, really I am, but…” Searching for the right words, I look down and see my legs dangling while her feet stay on the ground.
She’s grown taller than me.
“Where on your world would you like to go?”
Her question seeps into me—her voice directly to my brain and her touch directly to my heart—and I can’t concentrate. One of my regrets is that I’ve rarely traveled, let alone left the city regularly.
“Someplace natural.” She sets me down. “Someplace you’ve never been.” She tousles my hair. “Someplace far from here.”
Relishing her touch, I look up and grin. I’m as tall as her breasts now, but I don’t care about our reversed size difference. I’ve rarely felt affection like this.
“The Grand Canyon,” I finally answer.
Without hesitation, she lifts me like a child. “Hold tight.”
Wrapping my arms around her neck, I peek over her shoulder as she shoots forward. The wind whistles by, and I watch the city, suburbs, and towns recede until replaced by green countryside. Hills and forests, plains and mountains—so much land that I feel small.
When the scenery settles in to place, I wonder if time flows as swiftly as she does.
I slide down her chest and land in her arms, which cradle me like an infant. Under the setting sun, the rocky ridges are aglow like rusty red fire. We’re deep in the canyon, and besides her, I’ve never seen anywhere or anything so impressive. Awesome. Enormous.
“Quite a magnificent choice.” Her words linger in the air.
The sun dips below the canyon’s western edge, and I look up toward her face. She’s even larger than when we arrived. “Why’d you bring me here?”
“To appreciate the bigger picture.”
As I contemplate her answer, something trembles below me. Fearing an earthquake, I clutch her arm, which expands within my grasp. For the first time since rescuing her, I feel her growth.
Rolling onto my stomach, I straddle my legs over the sides of her arm and squeeze tightly to stay in place, but she grows too thick, and I slide off.
I immediately land on my stomach, my head hanging over the edge of the slowly rising platform. The canyon floor gets farther, so I look away to quell my vertigo. Four thick columns loom behind me, a stubbier fifth one protruding to the side. I’m in her hand.
“Everyone deserves someone to catch them when they fall.” Her voice sails down from above, and I barely see her face. Her sparkling white teeth smile as she gazes at the majestic purple sky.
I’ll never get a view like this again, so I relax and sink into the comfortable cushion of her cupped palm. The top of the canyon descends, revealing more land stretching into the distance.
My seat expands, and I watch the sun setting. A distant city—Las Vegas?—is ablaze with light, about halfway to the deep blue of the ocean.
The air should be thinner, but it’s the view that’s breathtaking. Overwhelmed with joy, I start crying.
“What’s wrong?” Her face is lost in the clouds.
“I’m grateful you brought me here, but I don’t understand why.”
“The world is beautiful if you slow down to see it.”
She keeps growing until the sun disappears behind Earth’s curved horizon. Millions of stars I’d never see through city lights dot the void. If the moon’s behind me, she eclipses it. Her body—along with the immense plateau I rest upon—blends with the night sky.
“My time here soon ends.” Her voice reverberates like a goddess—a savior from the heavens. “I’m now far too large for your world. I’m glad you were here.”
I stand, no bigger than a speck to her. “I still have questions! Who—or what—are you? Why’d you choose me?”
“It’s time I return you home.”
“Please not yet! I need to know—”
Her hand rockets forward, knocking me over and into a crevice, the lifeline of her palm. The stars streak the sky, and for all I know, she’s colossal enough to reach clear across the country and deposit me right outside my window where I first thought I heard her.
I’m traveling so fast I can’t keep my eyes open. With a thundering boom, like breaking the sound barrier, everything goes black.
* * *
When I come to, I’m lying on my bed. I don’t question how I got inside since she can pass through walls. Staggering to my feet, the blurry room comes into focus, everything exactly where I left it.
My phone with the unsent email.
The glass of water on my nightstand.
The open bottle of pills.
Tears fill my eyes as I recall where I was and where I’ve been taken—what she showed and said to me—and I decide to do something different.
Grabbing the phone, I dart to the window, praying she’s out there, even if just a faint silhouette. I delete the email and dial a number.
“Hello?” says a groggy voice. I know it’s late, but they don’t sound upset.
“Can you talk?” I ask, still searching the midnight sky. “I need some help.”
Outside, the crescent moon is titled like a bright smile shining down on me.