Madison is a pipe dream at this point, you realize. Getting to her would require walking through an area with very high foot traffic, a lethal hazard at this size. Trying to get to her is much more likely to result in ending up as a smear beneath some unaware woman's shoe than at her feet, and even if it didn't, then what? She didn't know you were tiny, and you barely knew her. For all you knew, getting found by her could result in a slow and agonizing death.
You look around the room trying to find someone you aren't liable to get stepped on just trying to reach. Off to the side, pouring a drink out of a keg that seems none to eager to share its contents, is a muscular redhead frantically pumping at the tap. Her almost knee-length skirt and long, smooth legs would provide a significant challenge to climb, but the white rubber tips of her Converse should be easy to get noticed on.
About an equal distance away you spot a slight, pale woman in the corner, playing on her phone. The bangs of her long, straight black hair nearly falls into her eyes, and the glow from her screen illuminates her pale skin enough for you to see her dark blue eyes. Her stockinged legs are crossed at the ankles while she leans against a wall, and she idly taps one of her black flats against the floor to the beat of the music playing.
Neither woman seemed particularly likely to move in the near future, giving a mostly safe approach to their feet. What would happen afterwards, and even whether you made contact, was anyone's guess. You had to decide fast though. The bathroom door swung open, and you saw, then felt, the white Vans sneaker crash onto the floor on its way back to the party.
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