Bigger is better

Her chest enters the room before she does — full, heavy, impossible to ignore. You find yourself staring before you've made any conscious decision to.

She knows exactly what she's doing, the way she shifts her weight, letting gravity do its slow, deliberate work. Your hands feel suddenly restless, aware of their own emptiness.

This is the kind of abundance that rewires your thinking — you forget what you were doing, what you were saying. All that exists now is the soft, overwhelming weight of her, and the ache she leaves behind your ribs.