Implied

The mirror confirmed what Ballard Wilcox feared: He was getting bigger.

There was no change in his diet; in fact, he’d been eating less since he’d become chronically unemployed. Yet his clothes were tighter, his shirts impossible to button, his pants barely closing around his waist. Stranger yet, he gently pinched his puffy arm, and it just felt…light. And hollow. Almost balloon-like.

“Putting on a few, Bal?” his wife Dana chided him from the doorway of the bathroom.

She moved through the water with an angel's grace, her form as lithe and honed as her body.  She spoke little, yet her presence parted crowds as easily as the waves.  Many approached her, yet all found her cold and distant, turned down time and again by the same phrase.

"Your body is only seventy percent water.  I could never put you before swimming."

He stared at her. "What does that mean?"

She was alone finally, and she knew where the candy stash was hidden. After waiting patiently for everyone to leave, the whole storage closet was fair game. So she sat herself down and got ready to feast. “30 some odd pounds of candy should be enough to get a good sugar high”, she thought; little did she know what she was getting into.

"You sure this is the correct tomb?" My assistant, Georgia asks me. We both stand in front of a four hundred year old tomb to a Wakellium chieftain.

"The hieroglyphs here talk about Marmaren the great Wakellium chieftain." I point to my left, shifting my weight because of the pack of supplies on my back.

Staring at the skulls on pikes, Georgia is overcome with fear, "Maybe we shouldn't go in there, it could collapse on us or have deadly traps."