The wedding suite at the Los Alamos Motel lay silent. Around the edges of the empty dance floor sat a dozen white-clothed tables. On each, lip gloss stained Champagne flutes fizzed gently amongst the gleaming silver cutlery and trembling phones. From the ceiling a net of blue and red balloons threatened to fall.
At the top table the wedding cake remained uncut. Tears of icing dripped in the baking heat. Sugar models of the bride and groom melted slowly into the sagging third tier.
In the distance, retreating sirens faded to an echo as the suite’s sun-bleached net curtains fluttered in the desert breeze.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.