Your decision to wait at the table isn't so much a choice as it is a "default setting." You've accepted the fact that you've shrunk; your mind, however, is so overwhelmed by the new perspective your senses are giving it that you find yourself unable to make any decisions.
Your mental reverie is interrupted by a decidedly male voice observing, "Someone left a black barbie doll in the lobby. Nope, too small for a barbie. Maybe something scaled down for a dollhouse?"
You look up to see a handsome male face looking down at you, a mildly curious look on it. The face belongs to a young, fit white man who you have
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