Tiny

At the door was a tiny man - not a short or somehow condensed person, but the type of tiny man that comes to mind when the word "leprechaun" is used. The tiny man looked at Doris and smiled; Doris, frozen, simply stood there awkwardly and then asked, "Can I help you?" This amused the tiny man to no end, and he shook his head (his hat, covered with ribbons and bells, jingle jangled as expected; it seemed loud in the hallway of Doris' apartment building) and he tugged his own teal-colored beard (as if ringing for butler service). "I have come to help YOU," he said lightly, and handed her a little scroll. "It's a coupon." "A coupon?" Doris repeated, not knowing what else to do (when in doubt, confirm). "Yes," he responded, "for getting time back without performing a service. Just take it to the nearest faerie mound and one of us will redeem it; we'll restore time that went flying by, time stolen, time faffed about like it was infinite - not used to the fullness of its potential. We're trying to address issues with our ... well ... reputation. We're not all bad. We're not all tricksters." Doris took the little scroll, but didn't open it. "Quick question," she braved some words, "if we're talking about perception here, how does it come to pass that a tiny man in a jaunty hat is handing out coupons for time that belongs to other people?" He grinned from ear to ear. "I like you," he said (with a wink). "Be one of the first ten people to take back your time, and I'll throw in a family-sized pizza." "Well, thanks much," Doris said, smiling and returning his bow with a nod of her head. Just on the other side of the door, she heard a delighted giggle and wasn't as annoyed or afraid as she probably should've been.