It still came as a surprise when it all finally snapped, and the foot came crashing down, in an instant flattening half the box, the rest of it deforming all around the girl; the corner that she was hiding in suddenly pressed against her and with a yelp she threw herself onto the floor. The loud creaking of breaking plastic sent her into panic mode and she put her hands on her ears and pressed her face into the hard floor, trying to hide, disappear, phase right through it. The acrylic roof broke with a particularly loud sound - it was like a gunshot to her - and then she felt a gust of stale air coming in through what must have been a giant crack nearby. Then, everything came to a standstill.

It took her about a minute to get herself together again. She wasn't in pain; her body seemed to be intact. She pushed off the floor, expecting her head to hit the ceiling, but... no. Finally, she looked around, taking in her changed surroundings.

The box fared better than she expected. The front section of it was flattened, broken down, smashed under the sneaker that she could now barely see because that section of the transparent acrylic ceiling was covered in myriads of tiny cracks. One of the side windows was knocked out by the top-down pressure, and that's why she could sense the bus air coming in. The back end of the box was deformed, still about an inch and a half high in the very back, and tapering to millimeters where the sneaker rested. Deformed, reduced to what must have looked like a discarded piece of packaging... and yet she was still okay here in the back. And she could probably take the window exit...

She tried to bring her breathing under control as she turned around and laid on her back, staring into the still-intact section of the ceiling right over her head. She smiled to herself; perhaps there was a hint of madness to that smile, but, well, she survived something she was sure could be deadly. And maybe he'd finally realize he was stepping on something and maybe he'd take a look what was it that he just crushed. Maybe...

Shadows shift, and there's a ridged, dirty white surface hanging beyond the roof of the remaining section of the box, right over her.

She whimpered as she saw it lower. It hit the tortured acrylic, rested on top of it with a resounding "thunk", forcing another series of squeaky complaints out of the plastic, and sending shivers down Brooke's spine. Paralyzed, she stared into the rubber sole above her, waiting for it to smash the rest of the contorted box - waiting for the sky to come down and pulverize her tiny form.

Then, she saw something. A lump immediately came up in her throat.

Sometimes, the mind recognizes something before processing it. Sometimes, it's enough to see something resembling an insect to feel disgust. That's how it was in this case; she didn't yet know what she was looking at, but the contents of her stomach were already rising, and her body was already trembling. The eyes caught up a second later.

Right there, on the sole of this man's shoe, magnified and presented to her through the acrylic, there was a dark silhouette embedded and smashed into the horizontal ridges. Mixed with grime. Pressed flat. Black and brown, barely recognizable, stretched, deformed, ruined.

A body of an inch-tall man, or what was left of it.