None of the cars there impressed him. Even those with intact clear coats and clean interiors were greasy, corroded disasters under the hood. But Sue’s was the only dealer in town. Reggie wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead and glanced back to his own vehicle; the little blue sedan was among peers. Its creaking suspension and rust-stricken body would fit right in. For all he knew, he only had precious seconds left before his car gave up the ghost entirely. He needed a replacement. Fast, else he wouldn’t be able to get to work. So, it was with the tremendous threat of poverty weighing on his shoulders that Reggie waved a hand to call over the saleswoman.

     Her long, blonde hair was darkened in streaks from the summer’s sweat. She was dressed rather casually in khaki shorts and a purple shirt that bore only the slightest of collars. The sandals on her feet clapped with every step away from the shade she’d been resting under. She was tall, and appeared, like him, in her early twenties. But Reggie was taller, and maybe slightly older. He hoped that would give him some kind of innate advantage in the negotiations.

     When she drew near him, her face changed from a sweat-soaked scowl to that patronizing rubber grin of the sales rep. “Hey, I’m Sandra, welcome to Sue’s Used Cars! See something you like?”

     Reggie pointed to a small white truck that seemed mostly intact. “How much for that?”

     She glanced at the truck, and then back to him. A hint of annoyance cracked through her cheerful mask. “The sticker says $12,000.”

     “I saw that, but thought it had to be a mistake. The thing’s at least ten years old and clearly been through the wringer.”

     “Do you have a trade-in?” Her eyes then followed Reggie’s pointing finger. She gave his car a three-second inspection. “We’ll be lucky to get $300 from the scrapyard for that. I’ll give you $200.”

     Reggie felt like she’d slapped him across the face. “Only $200?”

     “Yes. So for the truck, that leaves $11,800—”

     “I am not giving you $12,000 for that truck. That’s highway robbery, and you know it. The most I’ll go is $4,500, and I’ll have to test drive it first.”

     “We do offer financing, if that’s the issue.” She then spat out a slew of numbers that only exacerbated Reggie’s sense of being ripped-off.

     “Financed or not, I’m not going to give you $12,000. If I like it after the test drive, I’ll give you $4,500. It’s that, or I walk.” He wasn’t bluffing. He’d risk the drive to the next town over if it this was the best deal being offered here.

     “I can’t let it go that low. Momma would have my neck.”

     “Well, tell your momma she’s a fucking thief.”

     At this, Sandra’s commercial expression disappeared entirely. Her mouth tightened into a thin-lipped frown, and her eyebrows rose as if in disbelief. She produced from her back pocket some kind of remote-control; its logo on bore the words “Self-Defense Shrinker,” though written below it in marker was “The Negotiator.” Reggie’s stomach shot into his chest as a green beam of light struck him. The next thing he knew, both he and his car were smaller than Sandra’s big toe.

     The heat of the lot’s pavement blasted him as though he were standing on a stove top. Not even her shadow, monolithic to his senses, cooled it to a comfortable degree. But the pavement disappeared from his mind as faux-leather creaked beneath Sandra’s giant, dust-caked toes. The entire enormous foot rose into the air. It hovered high above him as though intentionally displaying the little pebbles and specks lodged into the underside of the sandal, the sight completely obscuring the rest of Sandra’s body. There was nowhere to hide. The foot shot downward. Reggie knew he was dead.

     The crash shook him to his core. He spun around to find a wall of fake leather and sweat-slick flesh in the place his car had been. Then, after the literal and metaphorical dust had settled, the foot tilted. Toes lifted to rotate the sandal onto its edge so that the gory details were revealed. Reggie’s car was no nothing more than a tiny, squashed can, a flattened strip of metal from which barely-discernible components appeared as little more than painted details. Shards of glass radiated out like bits of flesh and bone. Oil, gasoline, and various fluids pooled underneath the car’s corpse as an iridescent puddle of dark blood.

     Shivering despite the day’s heat, Reggie let his eyes trail up the enormous body of the woman standing over him.

     “Oops, looks like you no longer have a trade-in.” She grinned. Checkmate. “So, financing for $12,000...”