Once you work up the courage to leave your phone unattended, you decide that hanging out somewhere near the elevators is probably the best place for you to find someone. You have no interest in going down. Rather, you want to wait for someone to come up. You reason that if they're coming up, they're likely to stay in for the night, and you can approach somebody who appears safe and is alone. There's probably some kind of sofa or furniture you can hid under if you don't like the look of whoever comes out of the elevator. It's better than waiting near a glass table, at any rate.
You hurry down the hall as fast as your little legs will carry you. The last thing you want is for someone to come out of their room and snatch you - or worse, to carelessly stomp on you. What would have taken you less than a minute to traverse at a brisk pace is now a huge, long marathon track, and each door you pass by is an anxiety-inducing portal that could unleash a gargantuan beast at any moment. The thought of someone unsavory or careless finding you motivates you to hurry.
Nearly out of breath, you finally arrive to the elevators. You finish your sprint by jogging over to a stiff leather ottoman, pushed against the wall opposite the two elevators that take guests up and down the hotel. It's not high enough off of the ground for you to stand under it, but, you discover, if you lay flat on your stomach you can comfortably fit underneath it, with plenty of headroom. You could probably get away with sitting on your knees, but you decide to lay flat. It's going to be easier for you to crawl out from underneath it and run to whoever you want to get the attention of if you lay flat, you decide.
You approach the dark, cavernous maw underneath the ottoman. You hesitate before getting in. I hope it's not too dusty. you think to yourself. And I hope there's no... mice or spiders or anything else under there. You get on your hands and knees and glance underneath it warily. You don't see anything, so you lay yourself down and position yourself so that you're facing the elevators. You kick up years and years of old dust as you squirm your way under the ottoman, and you can feel it clinging to your clothes in soft clumps. You sneeze as smaller specks of dust are kicked up and settle again around you. You hope nobody heard that, but, if they did, they probably didn't think anything of it.
And... you wait. For what seems like quite a while. It's not exactly spring break, sure, but you were expecting more people to come and go through the hotel. You guess most of the vacationers are probably still on the beach, either enjoying the hot evening in the water or getting takeout to enjoy on their towels. And, you guessed, most businesspeople who were here for a conference probably weren't coming and going just yet. You might have to wait for quite some time, you reason.
The thought that whoever you make contact with probably won't have any idea about how to reverse shrinking occurs to you. But you ignore that for now.
You lay there, tensely, for minutes until you hear the familiar DING of hotel doors opening. You stare, eyes wide, waiting for the creaky old doors to part and reveal their occupant.
You see a tall-ish young woman, with dark wavy hair and an olive complexion. She has sunglasses on, and is wearing casual attire - bright yellow shorts and a white summer blouse. She's dragging a large rolling suitcase behind her. She appeared well-kept, and, in all honestly, looks like someone you would want to hire, if she were wearing a suit and handed you a resume.
Bingo you think to yourself. She must have just arrived. You prepare to run out to her, but stop yourself as she leaves the elevator. You thought she would go straight to her room, but it appears she's going straight to the ottoman.
You steel yourself and try not to run away as her massive sandal-clad legs stride towards you. The last thing you'd like is to be flattened beneath them. You watch, your heart pounding out of your ears, as she walks straight to the ottoman you're under. She turns quickly, dragging the ottoman right up to the right of the ottoman, blocking a third of it, and sits down. The back of her calves and ankles stand inches from you like massive tree trunks.
You breathe in slowly. You want to trust her. But can you?
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