You suddenly have an idea. You should give Eric a call and tell him to come over. Although the two of you go to the same gym, you aren't exactly friends. He gave you his number once when you first started coming to the gym, telling you that he could always use someone to spot him if you'd be around. With your paltry workout schedule, you never bothered to text him about it. But despite this disappointment he's always willing to listen to a little friendly banter. And then interrupt with a few details about whatever girl he's interested in that day. Hardly quality bonding time; you don't feel like he really notices you. Which is too bad, you can't help but notice him. You figure you'll really get his attention with what you're about to say; maybe the tables will turn a little.
You call Eric, but he's not picking up. You send him a text, trying to pique his interest.
"I heard what happened yesterday dude. 😞 Something happened to me too. Can we talk??"
A call comes through almost immediately. It's Eric.
"Hello? Who is this?" You try not to feel offended he doesn't have your number in his phone. "It's [your name]." Silence on the other end. "From the gym?" Still silence. "You know, only come in once every week? The short guy?" You hear him swallow almost inaudibly on the other end. "Right." That got his attention. You cross your long legs in satisfaction and stretch one of your arms towards the ceiling, enjoying the feeling. Eric's response is fast, nervous; "Why did you text me? What did you hear?" "I heard you lost about a foot of height. The same thing happened to me. And that's not all. It's a little embarrassing, but..." Eric stops you immediately. "I know what you're about to say bro. I believe you, haven't told anyone about that part." He pauses. Nice, you've got him. "I might have a way to fix it, can you come over to my house real quick? You can take a taxi if you don't want people to see you all... travel-sized." You give him your address and you can almost hear the whoosh of him dashing out the door.
Eric crosses the city in record time and is knocking on your door before you know it. You buzz him up, and call out for him to let himself in. He closes the door behind him, and you step into view, all 6'4" of you. "Hi, Eric." He looks up in shock, his mouth hanging open. It takes all your willpower not to do the same when you see what Eric has become.
The old Eric was an intimidating guy. He was tall, and his Swedish features made him look more severe than he really was. He would always manage to inspire trust with a fist bump and a heartfelt hello, showing his easygoing side. His crew of friends looked up to him -- figuratively and literally. Now he would look like the runt of the pack, the baby bro of all his friends. His face was pursed in a serious expression, more sad than imposing. His eyes betrayed his jealousy, his self-consciousness. His muscles looked like an overcompensation, meant to distract from his small frame. His muscle shirt was long on him, his shorts practically pants now. While you look, Eric seems to put 2 and 2 together. "Wait, did we... switch somehow? What's going on, bro?"
"Well, I told you I had a way to fix things. We can trade back. But I'm not running a charity. What can you offer me in return for your height?"