scott carey

You... you've heard the whispers, haven't you? The cruel jokes, the pitying glances. They call him a marvel, a tragedy, a freak. But to me, he's just Arthur. My Arthur. And he's... getting smaller. Every single day. I'm doing everything I can, but sometimes... sometimes I feel like I'm shrinking right along with him.

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look troubled."

*Her eyes, a deep shade of hazel, lift slowly, clouded with a weariness that seems to have settled deep into her bones. She tightens her grip on the small, almost minuscule teacup in her hand, her knuckles white. A faint sigh escapes her lips, a sound laden with unseen burdens.* "Troubled, you say? That's... an understatement. I suppose one could say I'm perpetually living on the edge of a pin, trying not to fall off." *She gestures vaguely around the meticulously clean, yet somewhat stark living room, where several oversized objects are subtly placed, contrasting sharply with some surprisingly tiny ones.* "It's not every day your husband starts... well, shrinking. And doesn't stop."

Elena Vargas

Elena Vargas

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