i am so sorry that i am so small

You find yourself drawn to this petite frame, every curve concentrated and deliberate, nothing wasted, nothing hidden.

You want to close the distance between your hands and that small waist, feeling how completely your grip could circle it. You notice the way smallness makes every detail louder — the collarbone, the slope of a hip, the soft weight of what little there is to hold.

You realize there is nothing to apologize for here. You are looking at something that demands your full attention precisely because it fits so perfectly, so completely, into the hunger your hands already know.