Catherine pulled me for a side-hug and nuzzled me. “I know. I know. You’re right.” She kissed me on the cheek. “This time.”
“Dear diary,” I joked. “I was right today. Reset the counter.”
Catherine squeezed me a little tighter. “It’s only because it was Tarnia,” she whispered. “If any of your Amazon co-workers had come here, we’d be banished and this place would be deserted by tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I whispered back. “Not happening. I’m not that stupid.”
“But you are stupid,” she teased.
“Dear diary. At least I broke even today. Maybe next time.”
Misty Brook and the surrounding neighborhoods and businesses were the closest thing towns like Oakshire had to a Little Town. Large metropolitan cities inevitably develop their own Little Towns. When in large enough groups and with a little bit of luck (or Amazonian negligence) Littles have always been able to pool together enough resources and ingenuity to live together in communities that end up resembling the few cloistered Littles nations in relative comfort and safety.
Amazons tend to avoid these areas, either due to general physical discomfort (everything is too small for them), or cognitive dissonance, (babies don’t go grocery shopping or play baseball). The more extremist Amazon activists and politicians (the Raine Forrests of the world) demand that Little Towns be forcibly disbanded ‘for socialization purposes’. It’s hard for one of the giants to snatch up a single Little when there are over a hundred more surrounding them, and Little security guards with tasers who have been authorized to escort the offending Amazon off the premises.
Funnily enough, it’s probably the Brollish’s of the world that keep Little Towns working. They’re crazy. They look down on us. But they understand practical and keep to the letter of laws if not the spirit. Money is money for landlords. Votes are votes for politicians. Amazons don’t have much to worry about when it comes to upsetting other Amazons.