The Past is Prologue

I strode out of the burning warehouse with a man over one shoulder and a huge hammer over the other. Flames framed me, from the mary janes on my feet, past the silk stockings, pleated plaid skirt, red letterman jacket and flip hairdo at the top of my eight foot high body. Two emt's ran toward me, carrying a stretcher, and I laid the man upon it. I set the hammer on the ground, and began to shrink. The hair returned to my usual sandy pixie cut. Khakis replaced the cheerleader skirt. And the top disappeared, leaving my breasts bare to view. Back to my usual 5'6" height, I glance around distractedly for several moments before I have the presence of mind to lift an arm to cover my breasts.
Then the video goes to black. It starts to repeat, and I jab my mouse at the stop button.
I catch my boss's eyes below my chin when I turn from his monitor. He clears his throat.