And your ex-girlfriend has gained weight.

One brief moment. Lord, we were only seventeen! A kinship of souls? Call it whatever you like. That summer, once Mirna and I met, we were inseparable, walking down the street hand in hand, making plans for the future…

And we never made it to bed. It's even a shame, because Mirna, as they say, 'had it all' — a slender, light figure, smooth skin, and a face created by the Lord in a moment of joyful inspiration. At seventeen, it seems all thoughts should be only 'about that' — but for some reason, ours revolved around other matters. Perhaps that's why the moment turned out to be so brief; summer ended, and with it ended our

meetings. We parted ways and lost touch. All I had left was her photo in a swimsuit. Digging through 'social networks,' scouring archives? Not my thing. And Mirna held the same opinion, 'a waste of time.'

However, I kept the photo. I have no idea why, but it lay in my album for ten years…

And then I get a letter from a friend who moved to the west coast. And attached to the letter is a picture.

'This isn't Mirna, by any chance?' he asks.

The face is practically the same. In other respects, though… In the picture — a woman still young, but incredibly fat, her belly straining her jeans, and her hips filling the doorway.

And yet it is Mirna and no one else. I take the old photo from the album, look at it, at her delicate face, shift my gaze to the impressive sack of fat hanging over her hips…

I have to see her again.

I book a ticket on the next flight.

The first view I get is from behind. Below the waist, and it's noticeable even through her trousers, she has about a million cellulite dimples, and above her knees are folds of fat.

She turns sideways. The protruding belly — as if a large pillow has been stuffed into her pants. She's wearing a T-shirt that reveals forearms resembling a football of soft flesh.

At the sight of Mirna, the world becomes brighter and lighter.

I approach her and light that same light for her. Mirna is crying. My eyes are also wet. The evening is ours. I invite her to dinner.

Finally, she asks:

— And why didn't we ever sleep together?

She sits at the table, the top fold of her belly resting on the table.

— Back then — I don't know, — I answer, — but right now I want you. Right now. Please.

No need to persuade her. We go up to my room.

That fragile, airy girl is gone. Vanished. Nothing airy, no fragility, forget about the light-footed spring doe.

She vanished, but about a hundred extra kilograms appeared. And these are not trained muscles and sinews. Mirna simply expanded outward. Swollen, fattened.

— I've gained weight, — she reports shyly.

— I see.

— A lot of weight.

— Yes.

— And you like it?

The next three hours prove exactly how much I like it. I thrust into her, and with each movement, ocean waves ripple across her thick stomach. I search for her navel in the deep layers of luxurious flesh. I make her raise her hands above her head and shake them, causing the folds of fat hanging from her forearms to sway wildly. With both hands, I lift her hanging, swollen, massive breasts, caress them, play and enjoy, gently pinching the swollen peaks of her nipples. My tongue traces the soft hollows behind her knees. My lips explore the massive folds of her double chin.

— I think I have a thing for fatness, — Mirna confesses.

— YOU do? — I smile.

— Yes.

— And what are we going to do about it?

— Would you like it if I gained another fifty kilograms or so? — she asks.

— Are you ready for that?

— With you — absolutely, — the girl answers. — I always knew you'd come back. And I had a feeling you'd be into it.

— Pure romance. I'm in. How much do you weigh?

— Three weeks ago it was 148.

— Well, let's start by getting to 170 and see how it goes.

— Amen, — Mirna sighs and reaches for the box of donuts on the bedside table…