A White Wedding
It was the most exciting Christmas ever, pretty much like her tenth birthday when she had got a puppy and a bicycle. And now after 25 years, her prayers had been answered with not one but two suitors.
“So Ryan or Dave?” Sheila asked.
“Dave is just a friend!” Fiona protested.
“Who loves you…”
“But I love Ryan,” Fiona wore a dreamy look. “I can’t believe that someone like Ryan could ever…”
“So you are grateful and overwhelmed with his attention?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Seemed like it to me.” Sheila shrugged.
“Why do you say that?”
“Here you are at the ripe old age of 35, a self-made entrepreneur, no expectations of getting married ever, and in comes Ryan, the dashing handsome rake that you’ve always been warned about…”
“Yes I know!” groaned Fiona. “Dave is safe while Ryan is like skydiving. My brain says one thing and my heart another. It’s a tough call.”
“If you had to choose one, the puppy or the bike, what would you choose?”
“Mr. Pups for his unconditional love. The bike gave me a lot of grief. Even broke my leg.”
“Well, there’s your answer.”
“I do.” Fiona smiled mistily at Ryan.
Written for the Sunday photo fiction – a story in 200 words or less. Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting the challenge and and photo prompt. To read the other stories inspired by this prompt click here.