Tales from Little Mart: A Mark in Time

Please note that this story was written as a one-shot story. While there are no planned updates to this story, the characters exist in the Smallara world, so they can appear anywhere. Tales from Little Mart is a series designed around each story being independent of the others. However, I would never rule out some stories being 2 or 3 parts but none of the stories are designed to be long content like Smallara prime or Madison’s world. But, the stories are intended to be one-and-done like this one. 
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August 15th, 2024

The bright, sterile lights flooded Mark’s glass-walled habitat at Little Mart, casting sharp reflections that only amplified his sense of entrapment. He stood by the transparent wall, gazing out at the sprawling aisles below, where shoppers meandered like distant figures in a diorama. A large display of Sarandipty and her spokeslittle stood at the entryway to the aisle. Mark never thought he’d be here, on display, waiting to be chosen. Twenty-five years old, far from the life he had once envisioned when he married Heather, his high school sweetheart, fresh out of graduation. They’d rushed into things, barely adults themselves, eager to lock in a future they hadn’t truly imagined. Over time, the once-eager love between them had soured, laced with unspoken resentments and dreams of what might have been.

And then, Smallara hit.

The diagnosis in June of 2023 was swift, like a judge’s gavel sealing his fate. Heather’s face had fallen as if she’d witnessed an irreversible tragedy, her gaze avoiding his as reality set in. They both knew this would change everything, but Mark had hoped she might stand by him. Instead, she voiced fears and frustrations that he hadn’t dared to consider. She spoke of how the weight of caring for him would crush her dreams, how neither of them was ready for the unending responsibility of a guardian’s life. For the first time, Mark fully understood he was no longer her partner; he was now her burden. Their arguments became sharper, more final, until the inevitable day when Heather finalized his transfer to Generitech.

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The months that followed were a blur of bleak inevitability. Generitech, known for its compassionate approach to Littles, made sincere efforts to find a guardian for Mark. The employees treated him with kindness, understanding the emotional turmoil he was experiencing. They reached out to his friends and family, but Mark already knew the answers. His parents, aging and dealing with their own health issues, hadn’t the means or stamina to take him in, and his friends were sympathetic but distant. He was alone in this new, alien world, shuttled into a holding facility while the corporate gears turned in the background, deciding his future.

Despite the circumstances, the Generitech staff endeavored to make him feel seen and respected. They explained each step of the process with patience, ensuring he understood his options. One counselor, a gentle woman named Elise, spent hours with him, discussing not just the logistics but his feelings and fears.

“Mark,” she said softly during one session, her eyes meeting his with genuine empathy, “we’re here to support you. I know this isn’t easy, but we’ll do everything we can to find a situation that’s right for you.”

He appreciated her sincerity, even if it couldn’t change the reality of his situation.

Then came “Little Training,” a program designed to help Littles adapt to their new circumstances while preserving their dignity and individuality. Generitech prided itself on a curriculum that emphasized mutual respect and personal growth, rather than mere compliance. The instructors approached each Little as a unique individual, tailoring their guidance to suit different personalities and needs.

Mark threw himself into the training, not out of resignation but as a means to regain some control over his life. The courses covered a range of topics: from practical skills for daily living to emotional resilience and communication strategies. The trainers encouraged open dialogue, allowing the Littles to express their frustrations and hopes.

One instructor, Daniel, noticed Mark’s determination and took extra time to mentor him.

“You’re doing great, Mark,” Daniel said after a session on interpersonal communication. “Your insights during the discussions are valuable. Keep it up.”

“Thanks,” Mark replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I just want to make the best of this.”

Daniel nodded. “And that’s all anyone can ask. Remember, this training isn’t about changing who you are. It’s about helping you navigate the world on your terms.”

These interactions provided a glimmer of solace, moments where Mark felt acknowledged as a person rather than a problem to be solved.

Upon completing the training with top marks, Generitech celebrated his achievement with genuine enthusiasm. They organized a small ceremony for the graduating Littles, complete with certificates and words of encouragement. Elise handed Mark his certificate, her eyes shining with pride.

“You should be proud of yourself,” she said. “You’ve come a long way.”

“Thank you,” he replied, emotion catching in his throat. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you.”

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Despite their efforts, a suitable guardian couldn’t be found. Generitech discussed the next steps with Mark, involving him in the decision-making process as much as possible. They proposed placement at Little Mart, assuring him that they would continue to support him and monitor his well-being.

“We’ll be in touch regularly,” Elise promised. “You’re not being abandoned. We want to make sure you find a home where you’ll be happy.”

Mark agreed, though apprehension gnawed at him. The idea of being displayed felt dehumanizing, but he trusted that Generitech had his best interests at heart.

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Now, standing alone in his newly arranged habitat at Little Mart, Mark observed the world outside his glass walls. The habitat was one of the higher-tier enclosures, perched on an elevated shelf that offered him a small mercy: he was spared from the tapping and slapping of excited young children who didn’t understand what it meant to be a Little.

The habitat itself was thoughtfully designed, a small apartment-like space complete with a comfortable bed, a reading nook, and a miniature kitchen stocked with his favorite pellet flavors and a few specialized little snacks. Generitech had ensured his meager personal items were transferred here, including littlle sized versions of the books he loved and a few photographs they had shrunk down for him from his old life.

Each day in the habitat was a slow, meticulous grind. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered on at exactly 8:00 AM each morning, bathing the habitat in a soft glow that simulated natural daylight. By 8:30, store associates passed through, bustling as they cleaned and prepared for the day’s rush of shoppers. Their glances at Mark were friendly, sometimes accompanied by a warm smile or a polite nod.

One associate, Kara, stood out with her genuine kindness. She had a habit of checking in on him, her eyes reflecting sincere concern.

“Good morning, Mark,” she said cheerfully one day, her auburn hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” he replied, sipping his coffee. A luxury he was glad he could still enjoy as a little.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay? We’re here to make you comfortable.”

“Thanks, Kara. I appreciate it.”

She gave him a thumbs-up before moving on to her next task. These small interactions became anchors for Mark, moments that grounded him amidst the uncertainty.

The first wave of shoppers typically arrived just after opening, a handful of early risers or parents with small children. Mark watched them with a mix of hope and trepidation, his eyes tracking each stranger’s movement as they approached his habitat. Some paused, their eyes lingering on the enclosure, but most were preoccupied, merely passing through Little Mart on errands. Grabbing a quick item for their own littles or a bag of pelletes. He noticed the variety packs that had fun sized chip bags filled with various pellet flavors. Including his favorite the Oreo pellets. Although they weren’t as healthy as others.

Around noon, the foot traffic picked up, bringing a crowd with more varied intentions. Teens and young adults strolled through the aisles in groups, chatting and laughing with that easy energy of youth. These were the ones who lingered the most, pressing their faces against the glass, pointing, giggling, sometimes making exaggerated expressions as if trying to provoke a reaction from the Littles inside.

At first, Mark made the mistake of hoping each group might be different, might be the ones who finally saw him. But, like clockwork, each set of faces faded away, drifting toward another habitat or growing bored after a few minutes. The disappointment settled into him gradually, dulling his optimism bit by bit until he began to expect the letdown as part of the routine.

One afternoon, a middle-aged couple lingered near his enclosure for what felt like an eternity. Mark straightened as they approached, his mind racing with cautious excitement. They appeared well-dressed and gentle, the sort of people who might view Littles with genuine kindness rather than mere novelty. The woman smiled as she pointed toward him, her eyes meeting his through the glass. Mark raised a hand in a hesitant wave, feeling an awkward thrill at the idea that someone might be seeing him as more than just another face on the shelf.

As she leaned toward her partner, whispering something he couldn’t quite catch, the man’s expression grew doubtful. He shook his head, gesturing subtly in Mark’s direction, and the woman’s smile faded into a resigned nod. She cast a last, pitying look at Mark before they turned and walked away, leaving him feeling colder than before.

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The Generitech staff continued to support him during these disheartening moments. Kara noticed his subdued demeanor after the couple left.

“Rough day?” she asked gently, pausing by his habitat during her rounds.

“You could say that,” Mark replied, trying to muster a smile but failing.

She offered a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard, but the right person will come along. Don’t lose hope.”

He nodded, appreciating her effort even if it didn’t alleviate the heaviness in his chest.

Another employee, Sam—a senior manager with graying hair and kind eyes—made a point to check in on him regularly.

“How are you holding up, Mark?” Sam asked one evening, his tone conveying genuine concern.

“I’m managing,” Mark said, shrugging slightly.

“We’re here for you,” Sam assured him. “If you need anything, or just want to talk, let us know.”

“Thanks, Sam. That means a lot.”

These interactions reinforced that he wasn’t entirely alone, even if the loneliness persisted.

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The cycle repeated over the days, with moments of brief hope punctuated by repeated rejection. Mark found himself counting the hours, creating small rituals to break the monotony. In the mornings, he exercised in the corner with the weights provided, the mechanical rhythm of lifting and setting down soothing in its predictability. By afternoon, he’d settle in the reading nook, immersing himself in novels that transported him to distant worlds.

The nights were the worst. After closing hours, when the lights dimmed slightly, he was left alone in silence. He could hear the muffled sounds of employees cleaning and restocking, a reminder that the world outside continued without him. He lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with doubts and regrets. Memories of his old life flooded back, small details he hadn’t thought about in months. The way Heather used to hum while she cooked, the smell of their first apartment, the worn leather of his father’s armchair.

As the days wore on, he found himself slipping into an emotional numbness, a state where the sting of disappointment faded, replaced by a hollow resignation. He became adept at predicting the shoppers’ behaviors, noticing patterns he hadn’t paid attention to before. Families with young children often stopped to admire the habitats but rarely adopted; teens who lingered too long were usually just there for entertainment. He learned to read their faces, to discern the difference between genuine curiosity and idle amusement.

One evening, just before closing, a girl of about twenty came by alone. She had a quiet demeanor, her gaze soft and thoughtful as she paused by his habitat. The Blue streaks in her hair drew Marks attention. While his heart quickened as she tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that felt almost personal. He met her gaze, resisting the urge to look away, his hope rekindling against his better judgment.

For several minutes, she stood there, her eyes scanning his face, then his posture, as if weighing some unseen quality within him. Mark felt exposed in a way he hadn’t before, a mix of vulnerability and yearning he couldn’t suppress. He thought she might actually see him, the person behind the glass, the one clinging to fragments of a lost life.

Then, slowly, her expression softened into a faint, sad smile, and she stepped back, her hand resting briefly on the glass. Her lips moved as if she were about to say something, but no sound came, and with a final, lingering glance, she turned and walked away.

After she left, the emptiness inside him felt sharper, the silence more suffocating. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumping as he fought against the growing ache in his chest. He knew, logically, that his circumstances were unlikely to change, that each day in the habitat would be more of the same. But some part of him refused to let go of the hope, that stubborn flicker that insisted someone, someday, might finally see him.

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Kara noticed the change in his demeanor the next morning.

“Hey, Mark,” she said softly, pausing during her rounds. “You seem a bit down today. Want to talk about it?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I thought… maybe yesterday… someone might have been interested.”

She nodded understandingly. “The young woman who was here last night?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, running a hand through his hair. “But she left like all the others.”

Kara offered a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes people need time to make such an important decision. Maybe she’ll come back.”

“Maybe,” he replied, though his tone lacked conviction.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. “I was going to save this for later, but I think you might need it now.”

He accepted the note, unfolding it to reveal a handwritten quote:

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.”

He looked up, meeting her eyes. “Emily Dickinson?”

Kara grinned. “Good catch. I thought it might resonate with you.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “It does.”

“Hang in there, Mark. You’re not alone.”

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As days turned into weeks, Mark’s perspective shifted subtly, his emotions blurring together into a tangled mess of yearning, frustration, and resignation. He thought about his training, the lessons from Generitech about resilience, adaptability, acceptance. But no training had prepared him for the slow erosion of hope, for the way each rejection chipped away at his sense of self.

To cope, he began creating imaginary lives for the people who walked by. The teen with the blue hair who laughed with her friends, maybe she had a Little sister at home, someone who depended on her. The young father with the toddler in his arms, perhaps he had once dreamed of adopting a Little but had been discouraged by the responsibilities. Mark constructed these stories, filling the gaps with his own ideas, as if trying to build a bridge between his world and theirs.

Yet, in the quiet moments, when the stories faded and the habitat grew silent, he was left with the raw reality of his situation. No matter how many people passed by, how many paused or smiled or lingered, he remained inside the glass, an outsider looking in.

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One particularly slow afternoon, Sam approached his habitat with a thoughtful expression.

“Mark, I’ve been thinking,” he began, his tone measured. “I know this waiting period has been challenging for you.”

Mark looked up from his book, curiosity piqued. “It has,” he admitted.

“We have a program where Littles can engage in community activities outside the store, supervised, of course. It might be a good way for you to get out of here for a bit, meet new people.”

Mark considered the offer. “What kind of activities?”

“Volunteering, educational workshops, that sort of thing. We believe in supporting the Littles’ personal growth, not just waiting around.”

The idea sparked a glimmer of interest. “I’d like that,” he said.

“Great. I’ll get the paperwork started,” Sam replied with a satisfied nod. “We’ll make sure it’s something you’ll enjoy.”

True to his word, Sam arranged for Mark to participate in a local community garden project. The first outing was scheduled for the following week.

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On the day of the event, Kara helped Mark prepare, her excitement almost contagious.

“You’ll love it,” she assured him. “It’s a beautiful garden, and the people there are wonderful.”

Mark felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation. It was the first time he’d be outside the habitat since arriving at Little Mart.

When they arrived at the garden, the sight of vibrant flowers and lush greenery was a balm to his senses. He inhaled deeply, the scent of earth and blossoms filling his lungs.

A group of volunteers greeted him warmly, introducing themselves and explaining the tasks for the day. Mark spent the afternoon planting seedlings, his hands in the soil, feeling connected to something real and alive.

One of the volunteers, an older man named Grant, worked alongside him, sharing stories and laughter. They talked about everything from favorite books to philosophical musings.

“You’re quite the thinker,” Grant remarked, planting a seedling with careful precision.

“Too much time in my own head,” Mark replied with a chuckle.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Grant said. “The world needs more thoughtful souls.”

The day passed quickly, and by the time they returned to Little Mart, Mark felt a renewed sense of vitality.

“Thank you,” he told Sam and Kara. “I needed that.”

“Anytime,” Sam replied warmly. “We’ll arrange for you to go again soon.”

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The outings became a regular part of his routine, each one offering a respite from the confines of the habitat. He met new people, engaged in meaningful activities, and began to feel a semblance of normalcy returning to his life.

However, the return to the habitat after each outing was bittersweet. The contrast between the vibrant world outside and the stagnant waiting inside intensified his longing for a permanent change.

One evening, after a particularly fulfilling day at the garden, Mark sat in his reading nook, reflecting on his experiences. The glass walls seemed more transparent than ever, the boundary between him and the world both physical and metaphorical.

He picked up a notebook, a gift from Kara, and began to write, pouring his thoughts onto the pages. He wrote about his hopes, his fears, the people he’d met, and the emotions that swirled within him.

Writing became his solace, a way to process the complexities of his situation. The pages filled with musings, sketches, and fragments of poetry.

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Weeks later, during one of his outings, he crossed paths with the young woman who had visited his habitat, the one who had nearly spoken to him before walking away. Her name was Lily, and she was a regular volunteer at the community center where Mark was helping organize a charity event.

Their eyes met, recognition flickering between them.

“Hi,” she said softly, a hint of hesitation in her voice.

“Hello,” Mark replied, his heart beating a little faster.

They ended up working together, sorting donations and sharing light conversation. Lily was thoughtful and introspective, much like himself.

“I think I saw you at Little Mart,” she ventured cautiously.

“You did,” he confirmed. “I remember you.”

She looked down, a touch of color rising in her cheeks. “I wanted to talk to you then, but I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.”

“I’m glad we’re talking now,” he said sincerely.

They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing everything from favorite authors to philosophical questions about purpose and destiny.

As the day wound down, Lily seemed to gather her courage. “I’ve been considering becoming a guardian,” she admitted. “But I wanted to make sure I was ready, to provide the kind of support and respect a Little deserves. Guardian Training doesn’t fully prepare you fully for that. But, I believe you don’t truly become a guardian until you take that last step and adopt.”

Mark felt a flutter of hope. “That’s a big decision.”

“It is,” she agreed. “But meeting you has helped me realize what I want.”

He looked at her, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. “And what’s that?”

“To offer someone companionship and understanding,” she said, her gaze steady. “Someone like you.”

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Back at Little Mart, Mark shared the encounter with Kara and Sam, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

“That’s wonderful news,” Kara exclaimed. “She sounds like a great match.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll reach out to her, see if she’d like to proceed with the adoption process.”

Over the next few days, Lily visited the store multiple times. Each visit was filled with conversation and shared laughter, the connection between them growing stronger.

Finally, the day arrived when the paperwork was completed. Lily stood outside his habitat, a mix of joy and nervousness evident on her face.

“Are you ready?” she asked softly.

Mark felt a surge of emotion—hope, relief, happiness. “More than ever,” he replied.

As he stepped out of the habitat, Kara and Sam were there, their expressions warm and encouraging.

“Take care of yourself,” Kara said, giving him a hug. “You deserve this happiness.”

“Thank you, for everything,” Mark replied, his eyes misty.

Sam shook his hand firmly. “Remember, our support doesn’t end here. If you ever need anything, we’re just a call or email away. We’re in your tablet.”

“I appreciate that,” Mark said, gratitude filling his voice.

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Held gently in Lily’s hand as she walked out of Little Mart, Mark felt the weight of the past months lifting. The sunlight warmed his face, the air filled with the promise of new beginnings.

They paused outside, both taking a moment to absorb the significance of the moment.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” Mark said, turning to her.

“Thank you for being someone worth waiting for,” she replied, her smile radiant.

As they walked towards their future, Mark glanced back at the store one last time. The glass walls that had once confined him now seemed like a distant memory, the kindness of those inside a chapter that had helped lead him here.

He knew challenges lay ahead, but for the first time in a long while, he felt truly hopeful. Surrounded by genuine care and the possibility of a fulfilling life, Mark embraced the journey before him, ready to write the next pages of his story.

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