I can look Henricks in the eyes, and he hates that. He don’t like to stand near me ’cause he hates the fact he can’t shout down at me.
He calls me Giant Gertie instead.
That’s nothing new. My own brothers teased me worse. None of the boys in school ever looked at me twice. The girls all made fun of my height.
Grandmutter Bachofner was from the old country, and I never saw a woman taller than her.
“Mein Liebling,” she’d say as she swept the kitchen, “be proud you not zwerg.”
I’ve never been in a place before where being tall is useful.
But, I’d become a zwerg in a heartbeat if it got me out.
Match the story (and the number) to the face at Mirrors.