A walk in the park

I was only half-listening as my sister and my friend M. made plans to meet for breakfast last weekend, but gradually some of the details started to sink in.

"Ok, so we'll meet at the bakery and grab breakfast. What time?"

"Dunno... How about 10?"

At that point I had to interject.

"Guys," I interrupted, "sorry, but I'm going to have to put the kibosh on this. I have a date at the bakery at 10. So you're going to have to find another spot to eat breakfast."

"Oh shoot. But that's the only place that serves gluten-free goodies," protested M., who is in the midst of an elimination diet.

"What if we meet there at 9?" suggested my sister.

"Yes, and then we can decide whether or not to leave by 10, or hang around a bit and take a look at the Young Hottie," replied M.

So I was relieved when I arrived at the bakery a few minutes after 10, did a scan of the room, and saw no sign of my friends. Young Hottie and I grabbed a couple of baked goods and headed into the park. At the first intersection, he suggested we walk down an obscure path I had never noticed before.

Not ten minutes later, I heard a snort coming from down the path from us, and when I looked up who should I see sauntering toward me but my sister and M, giggling and averting their eyes from me. I followed suit, and thankfully my date was too busy chatting to notice anything amiss.

Sigh. The hazards of dating local.