inside a cozy bakery, the scent of freshly baked croissants and cinnamon pastries filled the air. A commotion suddenly erupted as a woman and a man, each carrying a shopping bag, ran at great speed to reach the counter, their voices overlapping. "Can you believe it, Meg? This morning I saw Alice wasting gas again," the woman exclaimed breathlessly. "Honestly, Rose, how many times does she have to burn the car of Dale's dad?" countered the man, a hint of frustration in his tone. Rose and Meg exchanged a glance, both smirks on their faces. "Well, Dale might have inquired once or twice, indirectly. But no avail," offered Meg, trying to lighten the mood. "I just don't get it," Rose mused. "Why on earth would anyone waste fuel they don't even own?" "Makes you question human logic, doesn't it?" asked Meg, giggling. "Who wouldn't use their own car when they have one, especially when it's much better toibraries than Alice's old beast?" The man nudged Rose. "Tell me this, if one of you decided to take the same road and bump into Alice on the way to the farmer's market, which one of you would she choose?" he queried with a smirk. "Mmm," Rose pondered, "I think Alice would prefer the smell of our home-baked goods over Dale's or her father's stuff." "Agreed!" the man chimed. "So I say it serves her right next time she gets nowhere." Rose and Meg shared another conspiring smile, their eyes lighting up at the thought of the next incident involving Alice. "And maybe it'll be her last if Dale keeps his word to set a side of the road for her next time." It was only now that all three of them turned their attention back to the vibrant, aromatic setting around them, laughter barely suppressed. The atmosphere was that of a family, bickering yet loving, and joining in each other's stories. Their collective laughter dusted down the pastries, adding a delightful sprinkle of happiness and joy in this quaint small town bakery on a cold Wednesday morning.