I’ve taken the liberty of moving the location to the South Bank of the River Thames and the London Eye on which many a marriage takes place.
The winding queue moves aside as the beaming groom and bride-to-be head for the ribbon-strewn pod.
Today they’ll wed, high in the sky above London-town.
Alone, I watch the world walk by. People of every creed, colour. Laughter sounds the same whatever the language.
By now they’ll have said ‘I do’.
Tour-boats float by, tinny voices saying look right, left, look right again. Bored students follow their guides’ limp flag. A dog cocks its leg.
Now they’ll be sipping champagne.
Joggers trot past. A busker wails, a juggler drops a ball.
The joyful couple leaves the pod to loud applause.
A bouquet lands at my feet.
Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle. The picture is by Dale Rogerson.
Prod the frog to see who else is taking part!