You know those mornings when you get up and you can’t find the key to unlock the front door from the inside, if you have one of those types of locks, a mortice, and you can’t get out of your pad to go and do what Ever it is you have to do, work if you’re unlucky or whatever else, so eventually you have to squeeze yourself out through the bloomin catflap? Yeah well Sally was having one of those mornings and this time, squeezed out of the door, hoping Ginge the cat wouldn’t mind. Sal was all small and didn’t go back to her proper person size, so yeah she was having one of THOSE mornings, which is like the first sort of morning but double trouble because of the size thing. anyway so, there she is, just good ol Sal but having-squeezed-through-Ginge’s-catflap-size Sal which is quite a bit smaller, bigger than Ginge but not much, and, great, here comes Mr Sheinfuss from nextdoor back from the shop with his milk and paper and stuff and he’s just going to be all “hello Miss Evasthrop I nearly didn’t see you there” pointedly implying the size thing without actually enquiring about it directly so she closed her eyes and THINKKKKKKKKKED herself into not being there and listened for the clinkclick of Sheinfuss getting in his door and no comment and ‘k phew except, when she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t there or rather the corridor outside her flat wasn’t there where it had been but instead a different room, brightly lit, with tables and people waiting on chairs but they were. all. small. people. like. what. Sal had become.
Ughghghghghgh GREAT what now.
“Take a seat please, the consultant will see you shortly” addressed a normalish sized bloke in a white coat with a clipboard so she took a little seat and sat, her waiting face looking round at the other shrinkees.
Waiting .
The consultant’s door opened. “Come in” said Ginge, his whiskers neatly arranged on the collar of his white coat.