The warm afternoon sun spilled into the Sullivan kitchen, casting long streaks of golden light over the polished countertops and tiled floor. The faint sounds of a distant lawnmower and the clink of a glass being washed in the sink were the only sounds as Liz Harrington barged into the house. Harper Sullivan and Madison Wells were seated at the kitchen island, their laughter trailing off as Liz stepped inside with a sly grin plastered on her face.
“You guys won’t believe what my dad gave me,” Liz declared, her voice brimming with excitement as she slid her backpack onto the counter. She fished through it, her movements deliberate and dramatic.
Harper raised an eyebrow, brushing a strand of her auburn hair from her face. “If it’s another one of his weird gadgets, I’m calling it now—it's probably just a fancy flashlight.”
Madison, chewing gum noisily, leaned forward, intrigued. “Yeah, seriously, Liz. What now? A laser pointer?”
With a triumphant flourish, Liz pulled out a sleek, futuristic device, its surface smooth and metallic with glowing blue accents that pulsed faintly. It looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie, and its design was so clean, so advanced, it was impossible not to be mesmerized.
“Holy shit,” Harper whispered, her hazel eyes wide as she leaned closer.
“No way,” Madison scoffed, though her skeptical expression betrayed the awe flickering in her dark eyes.
Liz grinned ear to ear. “It shrinks stuff!” she announced, holding the device like a trophy.
“Bullshit!” Madison burst out, laughing. “There’s no way that thing does anything except maybe make a cool light show.”
“Watch. I’ll prove it,” Liz said, her voice taking on a mischievous edge as she gestured for them to follow her.
She marched toward the kitchen where Mrs. Sullivan stood at the sink, singing a tune while rinsing off a glass. The older woman was oblivious to the trio as sunlight lit her brunette hair, giving her an almost angelic glow.
Mrs. Sullivan swayed her hips and belted out an off-key rendition of "Unwritten," by Natasha Bedingfield, her soapy hands dancing in rhythm with the clinking dishes. Oblivious to the soft patter of tiny feet behind her, mischief crept closer—silent, calculated, and far too small to notice.
“You know how you always said you wish your mom wasn’t so annoying?” Liz said casually, glancing over her shoulder at Harper with a smirk.
Harper froze, her eyes narrowing. “Liz, what are you—”
Before anyone could stop her, Liz raised the shrink ray, aiming it at Mrs. Sullivan.
“Liz!” Harper yelped, but it was too late.
A beam of electric blue light shot from the device, crackling as it zipped through the air. The light engulfed Mrs. Sullivan, who froze mid-motion, the glass slipping from her fingers and falling to the floor. Her form began to shimmer from the radiation coursing through her body. Her startled gasp cut short as she rapidly dwindled in size.
The kitchen fell eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the shrink ray as its beam faded. Madison and Harper stared down in disbelief at the sight of Harper's mom, now incredibly tiny and laying unconscious on the kitchen floor.
Liz lunged forward with reckless excitement, her sneaker landing dangerously close to the tiny, motionless form on the floor. Eager to prove beyond doubt that the shrink ray had worked.
Liz crouched down and plucked up the tiny Mrs. Sullivan, who now fit easily in the palm of her hand. She then held the tiny woman up for her friends to see, her expression triumphant.
“See? Told you!” Liz said, holding Mrs. Sullivan’s unconscious form delicately as if she were a fragile porcelain figurine.
Harper’s jaw dropped, her face pale. “Liz, what the hell?! That’s my mom! What did you—she’s—oh my God, she’s tiny!”
Madison, for once, was speechless, her gum nearly falling out of her mouth. “Holy shit. It actually works,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Liz turned Mrs. Sullivan over in her palm, examining her tiny figure with fascination. “Isn’t this amazing? Look at her! She’s like a little action figure. This thing is insane.”
Harper stumbled back against the counter, her hands gripping the edge for support. “This is not amazing! Liz, you shrank my mom! You can’t just—how do we fix this?!”
Liz rolled her eyes. “Relax, she’s fine! I mean, she’s not dead or anything. Probably just passed out. She’ll wake up in a minute.”
Liz tilted her hand slightly, letting the tiny woman’s limp body roll delicately against her fingers.
“Look at her! God, she’s even cuter this small,” Liz murmured, her grin widening. “Don’t freak out—she’s just knocked out from the shrink. Happens for a minute or two.”
Liz’s grin turned sly as she glanced from Harper’s pale face to the delicate, unconscious figure in her palm. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a playful whisper.
“Here...” she murmured, her tone laced with mischief, “I’ll speed up the process.”
Before Madison or Harper could react, Liz lifted her hand higher, holding Mrs. Sullivan just beneath her lips.
“Liz, don’t—!” Harper started, but her protest was drowned in a sharp inhale.
With exaggerated slowness, Liz puckered her lips and blew a gentle, warm breath over the tiny woman.
