She sat with her feet tucked beneath her to one side, a coffee cup balanced on her knee. [He] leaned against the chair, his right arm on the seat. They’d talked for the greater part of the day and showed no signs of slowing down any time soon.
[He] looked up at her and smiled. “Your mother would sit like that, and it always amazed me. If I tried anything like that, I’d end up with a scalded crotch.”
She burst out laughing.
“It’s true. No matter how she sat, she could always put a cup of coffee on her knee. And you know she’d never tried coffee until she met my mother.”
“Coffee is ambrosia.”
They clinked cups and drank.
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