On the second night, thunder rolled. The storm’s thunder was a drum match for the giantess’s footsteps. Lightning flashed; the tiny woman took shelter beneath a warm sock, its fabric the texture of a desert tent. A sliver of moon found them both when the giantess came to the window and pressed her palms against the glass. The tiny woman watched her reflection ripple across the still sheen, a thousand fragile lenses of fear.

: You aren't the only thing small in the house. Dust mites become chitinous monsters the size of dogs, and a common house spider is now a legendary dragon. The Looming Hazard

The most effective horror comes from the giantess's lack of awareness or her shift in perception.