She barely clears your shoulder, but the way she holds your gaze makes the room feel smaller than she is. Every curve lands precisely where it should, concentrated, deliberate — like someone designed her to fit exactly against you.
You notice the details first: collarbones sharp enough to trace, wrists you could circle with two fingers, the soft architecture of someone who takes up little space but commands all of it.
Tiny, yes — but the word feels insufficient. What she actually is, standing there owning every inch of her small frame, is unavoidable.
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