Helpful Harvey: Part Four
- Hamlin
- Jun 13
- 6 min read
By Friday, Harvey could barely function at work. The squeeze-bottle assembly line blurred in front of his eyes, every plosive “thock-thock” of the pressure testers synced up with his memory of Christine’s tits as they ballooned out, day by day, like a pair of overinflated party balloons. He spent his lunch break scanning Instagram models, but it was all pale imitation. None of them could touch what was happening next door.
