Your eyes trace the curve before anything else registers — that impossible fullness, the way fabric surrenders completely to what it cannot contain.

You reach out instinctively, fingers anticipating weight and warmth, already knowing your grip won't be enough. Nothing in your past prepared you for this particular geometry.

Every angle rewards a longer look. The swell, the depth, the defiant roundness that refuses to apologize for itself — you realize quickly that your usual frame of reference has been permanently recalibrated.