They sat at one of the tiny, delicate tables on equally delicate chairs.
“I always feel as if I’m going to topple off these things. A child could sit on it. For anyone with a fair sized butt, it’s a risk,” Niki said as she perched precariously.
Chas’ gaze dropped to her chair—at least she hoped it was the chair.
“They’re perfectly stable, but they do seem to be designed for a narrow hipped anorexic. Or a twelve year old boy. Hard to say.”
Niki tightened up a little when he said anorexic. “Not everyone who is thin has an eating disorder, Mr. Cross.”
“I wasn’t implying that, Miss Tessler. I would never so presume.”
© 2018 Dellani Oakes