The Memory of the Blanket

Someone said the experiment had succeeded.
My vision wavered for a moment.
The next instant, the city sank beneath my feet, and people were the size of marbles.
I had become enormous.

The first ones to be startled weren’t me, but the people.
Everyone was running around, screaming.
I placed one person on my fingertip.
So I wouldn’t drop them.
So I wouldn’t hurt them.
Even so, the tiny person was trembling with fear.
I couldn’t understand.
My touch was gentler than a touch on a flower petal.

Just then, on the roof of a now-tiny building, a white blanket billowed in the wind.
The moment I saw it, a memory I had forgotten came back to me.
An afternoon when I was little.
The blanket, caught by the wind, wrapped around me and took away the sky.
No matter how I tried to escape or struggled, I couldn’t move something bigger than myself.
I looked at my fingertip.
The tiny person was still trembling.