Thick enough to eat for breakfast?

You catch yourself staring at those yoga pants like they're the only thing standing between you and something dangerously good.

You notice the way the fabric clings without apology, mapping every curve with a precision that feels almost deliberate, almost personal. You feel something shift in your chest — lower than your chest, honestly. You can't look away from the soft, generous weight of what's barely contained there.

You already know the answer to the question being asked. You'd clear your entire morning schedule. You'd skip the coffee. You'd take your time, and you'd be grateful for every single second of it.