Shrinking

Nia didn’t mind at first. Being at her kids’ eye-level made life easier. Their odd stories and complaints became miraculously comprehensible. Playing dress-up with them was more fun too. She liked staggering around in her too-big red pumps and Issey Miyake suits, flapping the jacket’s long, empty arms until they fizzed with laughter. But shrinking became less amusing as the kids grew bigger, and she smaller. Some days, she had to stamp her tiny feet on their dinner plates to get noticed. Some days, she had to check her reflection in a teaspoon to make sure she was still there.