It’d be almost poetic.
This is what Will repeated in his head as he laid in what was basically a cell of his own making. Above him were giant blankets of cold ham and lettuce. Beneath him, a softer, malleable mattress of bread. His heart was racing, his hands and feet trembling. All it would take now was time. This was his last, desperate attempt to become part of something marvelous, something unreachable. To be joined, in some twisted sense, with the girl he dreamed of being with—Marsae.
He wasn’t always so detached, but he had allowed it to get that way. It used to be he’d say nothing, out of fear of saying the wrong thing or giving the wrong impression. But over the years, Will had secluded more and more—not wanting to speak, not wanting to stand out, not wanting to be heard. And ultimately that’s what people saw. That’s what Marsae saw.
Marsae was a role model—athletic, sociable, talented—and Will… pretty much the opposite in every way. It was always bittersweet, seeing her pictures or her name in the paper and learning about the things she accomplished. Will knew he could not compare in the slightest, and he’d felt the smack of worthlessness over and over. He adored this woman, and he was barely an acquaintance to her—if even that. More like someone she’d say hello to out of courtesy, not out of any real interest. And the worst part was, Will agreed. He was not interesting, he thought, not worthwhile in the least—a guy who spent most of his life before a computer screen, typing data half the world would never know or care about.
That worthlessness and self-loathing had sunken Will into a cycle of dread, and he felt hopelessly trapped. He’d let fear and rejection run his life into the ground to the point it seemed inescapable. And he was sick of it.
This had to be a punishment. A punishment for himself for being so gutless, falling to fear, and making himself as undesirable as possible to the very people he desired more than anything.
It wasn’t a choice he’d made lightly. The moment the idea dawned on him, he knew he had to run with it. If he stopped to think about it he would see it for what it was—a stupid, ill-fated attempt to establish some form of connection.
He’d thought it through in detail. Marsae frequented the local coffee shop—at the end of her day, she’d grab a coffee and a sandwich and get on her laptop. That was the where.
The how was more complex, but not undoable. Working an internship with the Particle Physics Lab at Maynard University had its perks after all. The big fuzz on campus was that the graduate physicists had finished a fully-working size reduction ray. Will had been allowed to attend trial runs and observe. Taking the reductor would be all too easy—he’d learned access code to the storage area, and had learned to use it from viewing the trial runs. Sure, the university would trace the theft back to him—but Will wasn’t planning on sticking around long enough for any consequences.
It all came down to Friday night at the coffee shop, which was well-packed with undergrads and hipsters gathering for the monthly Open Mic. Marsae was sure to be there—catching up on work or enjoying the ambiance. Will had practically begged a friend to let him cover his shift, which ended right around the time the Open Mic started. That gave Will a small enough window of time.
Marsae would come, make some light conversation, and order a drink or a sandwich. Or both. From there, Will would dash into the kitchen, get the order started, and just before finishing, turn the reductor on himself. In a matter of seconds, Will would be the size of a cherry, standing on the tabletop next to a giant-sized sandwich made for Marsae. Once shrunken, he’d make his way over to the sandwich and climb inside. The incoming shift would take care of the rest soon enough.
“If only I could plan out or execute other things as well as this,” Will thought, “then maybe I wouldn’t be such a screw-up.” And yet, he could not help but feel somewhat excited. He’d pulled it off—taking the reductor, the timing, the order—it all came together. Despite it being an hour of dashing and panicking, and the vertigo and disorientation from the shrinking process—he was now exactly where he’d hoped to be—caught in a mix of cheese, lettuce, avocado, and butter.
It’d be punishment and peace all in one. What better way to break free of the unending feeling of worthlessness, than to have it end by Marsae’s hands? She wouldn’t even know it, but she would tear his body apart and literally consume him. She’d be his mercy killer, his savior.
He had to see her, Will thought. He crawled closer to the edge as best he could, his hands and knees slipping on the greasy avocado. He anxiously peeked above, trying not to be seen, and trembled at what was now a giant Marsae. From this view, everything about her was literally more magnified—her wavy brown curls, her ruby thin lips, her light brown eyes. The feeling was unlike any other—a mix of admiration and fear all at one. Will marveled at Marsae’s beautiful, now towering frame, at those brown eyes shifting back and forth across her laptop screen, and then looking out, farther down the room—at something—someone.
“You made it!” Marsae called out, recognizing a familiar face. Her lips formed that lovely smile Will had long drilled into his memory.
“Hey babe,” a male voice replied.
Will’s heart sank instantly. He had heard that voice one too many times.
It was Marsae’s boyfriend–Aiden.
Of course. Just his luck. Even now, when he hoped to end it all and be devoured by the girl he could only dream of, Aiden would show up. All of Will’s self-deprecating thoughts returned—he, the awkward intern with the zits and the chubby face and the untenable hair. Aiden, the dashing man with the chiseled chin and the soft smile, the clear-white teeth and the abs.
“Good! Let him be here”, Will thought. “For once, this once, he can’t interfere. Marsae has me all to herself, and it doesn’t matter what he−
“I got you your sandwich”, said Marsae, sliding the plate across the table. “Ham and Swiss, right?”
Those words sent a cold chill down Will’s spine, and it was as though someone turned the sound down all around him. Sight, sound—it became meaningless. There was only panic.The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. She wasn’t planning on eating. He was eating.
“Yes! Thanks so much. They let me get off work early, but I had to work straight through lunch,” said Aiden, taking his seat next to Marsae.
Will felt himself being lifted up, followed by a rush of blood to his head. CRAWL, he thought, crawl for your miserable life. Will started dashing as quickly as possible further to the back of the sandwich—or trying to. The slippery butter beneath him made it all the more difficult. Will kicked and stroked aimlessly, trying to get further back and avoid the very fate he had sealed for himself. His thoughts were racing, when suddenly he heard a loud crrrrunch
Aiden chewed down on the sandwich, pulling away a chunk. Inside, the shrunken Will felt a crushing pressure at the waist, followed by a searing sensation, as though a razor had cut through him. Will gave a blood-curdling scream as the bottom half of his body was ripped apart. In that instant, everything else ceased to exist, to matter. He forgot where he was, how he’d gotten there—there was only the pain. The scorching pain unlinked anything he felt before. Will shouted and struck the layers of bread and condiments about him desperately, realizing in the midst that he could no longer feel his legs kick.
All the while, Aiden chewed his meal, completely oblivious that he was slowly munching away Will’s lower body to pieces, ripping his knees and legs to shreds. Aiden moaned, delighted. “Oh, FUCK!” he said, still with a mouthful, “that is damn good!”
Marsae chuckled, her eyes beaming at the sight of Aiden—always a loveable goofball when he ate.
“You want to try it?” Aiden offered.
“I’m good,” replied Marsae. “I had another cup of coffee just before this, so I’m already full.”
None of these words had any meaning for Will, whose mind was in shambles, going from wishing the seething pain would end to berating himself for causing it. He could feel the blood spattering out from underneath him. His head felt hot and heavy; everything twisted and turned and faded around him. This wasn’t what he’d planned. Not this way. Not like this. He pleaded, hopelessly, now to just put an end to this misery, to end this trick fate had played on him. “You idiot. You can’t even kill yourself right!” he thought.
Aiden picked up the sandwich, ready to bite into it again. Will felt the weightlessness set in as the ground collapsed beneath him. In the midst of all—the rushing blood flow, the burning pain, the wave of panic, sickness from being lifted, and the disorientation from his body giving out, Will thought of one thing: Marsae. Marsae. Don’t let it end like this. In all the movement, Will suddenly felt himself slipping down, and then falling, and came to a stop on a soft, warmer surface. His head still spinning, Will shut his eyes and surrendered, expecting Aiden’s sharp white teeth to clamp down on him.
But they didn’t. In fact, Will could vaguely make out the sounds coming from above him. He looked up, stretching his neck as best as he could, enough to make out the form of Aiden’s head as he went on eating. This was the last thing he’d ever see, Will thought. Not a glimpse of the girl that had captured his dreams, but a clear and undeniable reminder of everything he wasn’t – a reminder of his own insignificance.
You HAVE to turn around, he thought. Goddammit, Will, if you do ONE fucking thing right in your life, let it at least be this. Will pushed against the fibers of the cloth he laid on, mustering what strength he had left to turn over. The movement caused him to scream again, as the racking pain at his waist worsened. Marsae, he thought. Just for one last time, let me see Marsae. This was running through Will’s head when he noticed a large shadow cover him, and then sensed something large looming above him.
“Ooh, you got some on ya”, said Marsae, grabbing a napkin and reaching her hand out to Aiden‘s shirt. She held the fabric between her fingers, pressed down with the napkin, and then pulled away quickly, leaving a small red stain on the shirt. She crumpled up the napkin in her first, smashing whatever remained of Will’s torn body into mush.
“Hah!” Marsae joked, “See? You can’t ever eat without spilling something on you! You lose again.”
“I lose?” Aiden smirked. “So does this mean I got to take you out to dinner now?” He reached for her hands, leaning closer. “That sounds like a win for me.”
Marsae smiled, drawing closer to him. “Aren’t you a lucky guy?” she teased.
The two of them kissed as the announcement was made that Open Mic was beginning. Marsae and Aiden embraced, looking forward to the evening ahead. There was nothing either wanted more than to share a night together with coffee, art, and music. No doubt it’d be a wonderful night—almost poetic.