The response does not seem to set any better with Max than it does with you. Surely you should have some idea on how you went from the size of Max's older brother, to the size of the toy soldiers lined up at the back of Max's desk. Right? As the two of you stare at one another in silent speculation you are at a loss to explain what in the world could have happened to you.

Max seems to have the same problem, "Maybe it was aliens! You know, some kind of ray gun to make you small."

"Aliens?" Your face is scrunched, one brow lifted in a skeptical frown. "I don't know, that sounds-"

"I know it sounds dumb, Jake," Max's eyes roll toward the ceiling, "but you're two inches tall. How do you explain it?"

"Well... I... Maybe it was... I can't explain it." The admission is not easy, but you really can not explain what happened to you. You don't remember. As you think of it, you realize there is a lot you don't remember, which brings your attention back to Max and the two of you once again stare at one another in silence for several very long minutes. It is an uncomfortable silence, made worse by the way you and Max both keep noticing the very dead spider that still lays only inches from you, its legs curled in the classic spider death pose.

Max is the first to have to fill the silence, "So, now what?"