Just as Mark reached out his hand to touch the rock, he felt it moving farther away from him. In the ever-growing distance, he could see Emma staring, running forward, focusing on making him smaller and smaller. Of course it was a two-way street and with every bit of height that Mark lost, Emma lost her own. Still, it stopped him from getting to make another wish for the time being.
The silly part was this: Mark was far, far closer to the rock when he shrank than he was to Emma. The distance between them, when Mark opened his eyes, was probably proportionate miles. Staring up, he could easily see the rock, towering over him like a mountain. He was smaller than a dust mite and, he presumed, so was Emma, lost and mostly powerless somewhere over a veritable wasteland of carpet, the fibers of which stood in the air like skyscrapers.
Yes, it would be a hike to the rock, but he felt worse for poor Emma, alone in a strange wilderness and the smallest, most pitiful creature on the entire planet.
