She barely takes up half the frame, shoulders narrow, wrists you could circle with two fingers. Everything about her is compact, precise — built like something meant to be held rather than admired from a distance.

Your hands would swallow her completely. Palms against her ribs, thumbs nearly touching at her sternum. She looks up knowing exactly what that size difference does to you, and she's using every inch of it deliberately.

Small doesn't mean fragile. She pulls you closer by the collar, and suddenly the one who feels powerless isn't her.