It was our first date. A fix-up, actually. My older sister was friends with her older brother and they schemed to try to get us together, thinking we might be a good match.
My sister gave me her phone number and pestered me until I finally called her. We talked for nearly an hour. I told her I wasn’t a fan of blind dates. Neither was she. She didn’t want to commit to a night-time date, so I asked her if she wanted to go on a picnic with me on Saturday. She agreed.
I packed a picnic basket, complete with wine, cheese, French bread, grapes, and a red and white checkered tablecloth. I had the perfect spot in mind for our assignation.
I picked her up at her parents’ house and drove us to the park. We walked until we reached the area where the tree canopy provided a somewhat isolated, shady spot. I spread the red and white checkered tablecloth out on the ground, meticulously arranged the bread, cheese, and grapes, and opened up the bottle of wine, pouring us each a glass.
She seemed to be impressed. I proposed a toast. “To fix-ups,” I said. Our plastic wine glasses touched.
As did our hearts.
Written for this week’s Thursday Photo Prompt from Sue Vincent.