Tiny?

Chapter Two.

Chapter Two.

One of our borrowers is checking out the food supply in the kitchen, when he hears a noise. He dashes at the speed of light under the cabinet above the kitchen counter, his heart pounding like a bass drum.

Our youngest human bean enters the front door of the house, her father close behind.

"Daddy, I just don't understand. We went on two dates, and then he suddenly loses interest because I'm too TALL? I'm only 167 cm!" she huffed.

"ONLY?" our borrower whisper-shouts to himself.

"And HE is only 170 cm. I'm sure he just feels intimidated by you. He wanted to break up with you before you broke up with him." Her father answered, always the voice of reason.

Our small friend cracks a smile, feeling sympathetic for the ex-boybean.

"But I don't care about his size, daddy. Nothing matters except what's inside."

His tiny ears perk up, feeling his heart swell at her words. I don't care about his size.

"I'm sorry, honey, but it will all be alright soon. Forget about him, okay? You will have many other boyfriends lining up to take his place." Her father comforted her before leaving the room.

She sighs, laying her head down on the kitchen table where she is seated.

Our borrower peeks to make sure she isn't watching, before climbing down from the counter and sneaking into the hallway.

He runs as fast as a young cheetah, until he is sure he is safe.

He sighs, relieved to have narrowly avoided being caught. He wonders what the boys are having for dinner tonight, since he wasn't able to borrow anything yet.

His thoughts continue on in the same manner, and he begins to walk very slowly and lazily, suddenly ashamed to go back and face his family. But this is his only worry.

That is, until he hears her walking towards him.

There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. He froze, looking at her slippers through his peripheral vision.

Badump. Badump. This is it. I'm dead, so why is my heart beating as if to prove its existence?

"My little niece must have left one of her dolls here yesterday. Why can't she ever remember her things??" She said, bending down, before picking him up.

After so many years of running and hiding and being saved by his brothers, it felt so unreal to finally be caught.

For a moment she still thought he was a doll, in his queer, patched clothes and pink beanie. "Hi there! My name is Emily. What's yours?"

Emily shivered, looking down at the "doll". Was it just her imagination, or was he staring very intelligently at her? Did he really look guilty? Was he scared? Was she crazy?

She began to contemplate putting him back down, when she heard a very soft voice, that reached her has a hushed whisper.

"Hi," her doll said, "I'm Mark. Please don't hurt me."