Mark’s fist slammed down firmly on the glass door and then splayed open and slid down. His best man pulled him away, “Call again,” he urged.
Clara sat in the limo, her dressed poufed up around her like a dandelion waiting to be wished upon. Her maid of honor was rummaging in her purse for a tissue. The restaurant workers smoked cigarettes at the curb.
The baker showed up with the cake. The restaurant stood still, dark and closed. It’s owner laid still, dark and cold on the floor in a vestibule. His phone ringing in his suit pocket.
word count: 99
Written in response to the 63rd Challenge of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, Week of 04-26 through 05-02-2016. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Graham, author of the blog, grahamisjustmyname. Thank you Graham!