The Day My Life Continued

Chapter Twenty-Five

Darcy Anderson woke up to find her world just a few sizes too big.

She was running through her memories to figure out what happened. She could vaguely remember the past few months. It was like remembering a dream but one of those dreams you remember for the whole day, just that some key details are missing. Like, why exactly you were helping Old Man Marcus find his pet billy goat, when just a minute ago you were in a swimming race against a cougar.

Believe it not, that was actually one of Morgan's dreams. Darcy's dreams involved murder and/or sex.

Except this dream. The dream of the time from before. No sex or murder or anything. She was just...she was just...what was doing?

"Are you done being high?"

"Gah!" Darcy jumped. She reached for her weapon-a blade- or a gun?-arrows?-fucking toothpicks?!- only to find herself clean of them. She looked to where the voice came from in this too-big-to-be-normal room.

Her sister.

Morgan.

She was older- looked it too. Not so much face wise- Darcy never judged her sister's age on face value. Her eyes were older. Her shoulders were sagging lower, almost like a weight had fucking lifted off her shoulders. Darcy hadn't seen the weight lift often- Morgan was an anxious bitch. Letting off the guilt was hard to do. For it to be off, Darcy would had to have been gone a long time.

"High?" Darcy snarked. "Look at you- taller than the fucking Chrysler building."

Morgan snorted. "Is that an 'Annie' joke?"

"Was the Chrysler part of Annie?"

"Hard Knocks Life. 'You'll be here til this place shines like the Chrysler Building'." Morgan supplied.

"Then yeah, it was an Annie joke." Darcy grinned. Morgan laughed in relief. "Okay but really why are you so tall?"

"I'm not tall- well I am usually, damn my 5'10 height and bless your usual 5'9- it's just you're- hmm- as is usual with us, you're shorter than me." Morgan explained.

Darcy hated when Morgan was doing her rambling answer thing. It was worse when Morgan was smug.

Darcy looked herself over. She was sitting up in a big cushion chair. Darcy patted her hand down on it twice. She remembered this seat. Morgan had it moved to the Weapons Vault after Darcy shot a hole in the back of the seat, then patched it up with a tear from her jeans.

"I'm...tiny."

Morgan snorted, catching the second snort in her mouth. "Fun size. Mini size."

Darcy- with dawning horror- looked down at the chair again. More specifically her arms on the chair.

"Tell me you didn't."

"I brought back my old doll body." Morgan chirped in a sing-song voice. "You're taking it for a joyride."

Darcy shook her head. "No- nonono. You- You're bullshitting me! I'm not a doll again!"

Morgan laughed.

"Mother fucker!" Darcy started to laugh. She ran her plastic hands over her face. "Author you're such a cunt."

Morgan laughed harder. She had to lean against the wall behind her to keep from falling over. Darcy laughed hard with her.

When the laughter faded off, Darcy saw Morgan had tear streaks on her face. Darcy chose not to comment.

"I died, didn't I?" Darcy stated.