Say the first thing that comes to mind

You notice the petite frame first — compact, deliberate, like something designed specifically to hold your attention hostage.

You find your eyes moving slowly, cataloguing every curve that defies the smallness, every line that contradicts modesty. You feel the pull before you've formed a single coherent thought, your body registering what your mind hasn't caught up to yet.

You already know what comes to mind — and it isn't polite. You let the thought finish itself, raw and unedited, exactly the way this body demands to be seen: without apology, without hesitation, without looking away.