For the next four hours you sit in the traffic jam, getting smaller and smaller. By the time you reach your house, your eyes are barely above the dashboard. You unplug your seat belt and open the car door. It's now about six, according to the loose watch around your wrist, and it's getting dark. The street lamps flicker on as you walk to the door, feeling slightly self-conscious about your rapidly decreasing size. Children playing in their front yards slow their run to the swings as you walk to your front door. You shove your hand in your pocket in an attempt to find your keys. Then you remembered; you took them out of your pocket about an hour into the traffic jam. The top of your head now only reaches the door handles of the passenger seats. There was no way you would be able to get back into the car. You would have to find another way into your house.
You walk wearily around the side of the house, desperate find an entrance into your house and get some sleep. After a few minutes of searching, you find a hole in the wall made from broken plaster. There is also a hole in the window you could go through, but only if you try jumping from a box nearby. What should you do? You are getting smaller and smaller by the minute. You need to make a decision now. What will it be?
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