Zlaw’s Echo

“What’s it like being a Giant, Jimbo?” asked Lulu. The Gnome was sitting on the highest branch of the highest fir tree, his little legs dangling off his perch, his eyes gazing at the stars. Leaning against the trunk of a neighbouring evergreen, weaving a basket to keep his hands busy, James barely had to lift his chin to look up at his tiny friend. “Much like being a Gnome, I imagine,” he answered calmly. “C’mon! Be honest. I’d like to know,” insisted Lulu childishly. That was a common temperament for his kind. It took so little energy for them to be agitated that they could afford to be. Lulu never got mean, however. That’s why Jim liked him. The Giant took a deep breath, considering his next words: “Well, everything looks small. And it takes ages for us to eat, or make clothing for ourselves, because we need so much food and fabric. Also, we move slower than most other things, which can be frustrating.” The Giant was grimacing at the thought of how annoying birds got in the Su...