Curvy Sharon | UHD 2024 |

Sharon was a potter. Not the kind who throws tiny, delicate vases for dried lavender, but the kind who builds bread ovens in her backyard and fires clay dragons that serve as garden planters. Her hands were always dusted with something—terra cotta, flour, or the fine grit of crushed walnut shells she used to polish her copper jewelry. At forty-three, she had the kind of body that department store mannequins reject: soft and mountainous, with a belly that preceded her into every room like a herald announcing a queen. Her arms were sturdy as rolling pins, her hips wide enough to make doorways feel narrow, and her hair—a wild corkscrew of copper and rust—seemed to have its own weather system.