I have this unzipped for a reason

You notice the cleavage first — that deliberate, unhurried unzip stopping exactly where intention becomes undeniable.

You feel the pull of it, the way your eyes trace the soft curve of skin exposed just enough to make your breath catch. You understand this isn't accidental. You're meant to look, meant to want, meant to follow that line downward with your gaze and imagine your fingers doing the same.

You keep coming back to that zipper — the small metal thing holding everything and nothing together. You know what the title means. You already knew before you even read it.