"Hold up. My legs are killing me." Emma bent a knee, with hands-on thigh, she stretched. “That’s better.”
"Over there." Minnie pointed, then grabbed Emma's hand. They rushed towards a window and gazed onto a darkening garden lit with twinkling lights.
"Let’s sit before somebody takes our spot." Pulling a chair from the table, Emma plopped. Like a shitake mushroom, her derrière flattened spilling over the seat.
"Here comes that good looking bus driver. I hope he comes to our table," Minnie said. He sailed past. "I hope he chokes."