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She had always thought of her own body as a series of apologies. A soft apology for the width of a hip that brushed doorframes. A whispered sorry for the generous sway of her chest that drew eyes she never asked for. For years, she’d worn armor of loose linen and dark cottons, trying to mute the obvious fact of her own flesh.

June kissed the inside of her wrist. “No, love. That’s the bravest thing of all. To stop apologizing for the body that carried you here.” large breasted lesbian

“I manage,” she replied.

She nodded, throat tight.

For the first time, the weight wasn’t a burden. It was an anchor. And June was the sea. She had always thought of her own body

“Is that wrong?”