Another option tugged at him: the living room. Maybe staying out in the open was safer than creeping into unknown territory. The couch, looming like a fabric mountain, offered cover and a vantage point. “Better than dodging feet in a bedroom,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. “Stick to the living room, Dylan. Play it smart.”
Decision made, he scurried across the floor, his heart pounding as he reached the couch. The coarse fabric towered above him, a labyrinth of threads. He gripped a loose strand and began to climb, his tiny muscles straining. Halfway up, he paused, clinging to the fabric, his mind racing through his options. “Okay, couch is good. High ground. I can scout from here, maybe find a better hiding spot. Or… what if I head back to the floor and try the kitchen? Food crumbs could be useful. But giants always go to the kitchen…”
His thoughts were cut off by a sudden creak. A door swung open, and Dylan froze. James stepped out, oblivious, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a pair of bulky headphones blasting faint music. Dylan’s eyes widened as he took in the giant’s frame—half-skinny, half-chubby, with a surprising set of abs flexing as he moved. James shuffled toward the kitchen, his bare feet thudding against the floor, each step sending tremors through Dylan’s perch.
Dylan clung tighter to the couch, his heart hammering. James rummaged in the kitchen, grabbing a bag of chips with a loud crinkle. Then, without warning, he turned and headed straight for the living room. Dylan’s tiny figure craned upward, staring at the towering form approaching. James, still lost in his music, loomed directly above the couch, his shadow swallowing Dylan whole. The giant paused, then began to lower himself, about to sit right where Dylan clung.
Dylan’s mind screamed. *Move! Now!* But his limbs felt like lead, pinned by the sheer scale of the oblivious giant descending toward him.