Submitted for the same short story competition as "Butterfly Kiss, Old Leather and Cicada Shells". 800 word limit; must include a stranger, ice, and an animal.

This story, like the previous one is much softer than the stories I normally write.

THE WEDDING GUEST

How the stranger came to be there, no one knew.

The groom’s mother worried, but her husband, a gracious and prudent man, said another guest would not matter. A waiter brought a plate, cutlery, and a napkin.

The stranger ate a modest amount, drank little, smiled at many, but spoke to few.

He was not shabbily dressed, but underdressed for the occasion. Brown pants, well-made, hung relaxed and comfortable from his thin frame like a part of himself. His shirt was clean, but unstarched, and he wore no jacket even though it was winter. His shoes were scuffed and old, but recently polished to a pliant brown.

From an insulated floral gift box he lifted a single white orchid, marvellous in shape and purity. He breathed ice from its leaves, and presented it to the bride. She gave him a polite dimpled smile, but her eyes were rabbit-wide and wary.

It was only when he stood to give a speech, that people began to mutter.

He held up his hand with relaxed authority.

The fathers rose, but glanced at each other. Would they drag the man off? It would be unseemly, and they would crease their shirts. They remained standing.

“Dear guests,” the stranger said. His voice was as warm and welcome as milky tea on Sunday afternoons. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

He smiled at everyone, and they smiled back.

Ancient Mariner-like, he began his tale…

#

“That’s my girl there.”

“She’s a looker.”

“Right you are.” He pockets the photo and pulls out a ring. It is set with a small diamond. “She’s the one for me.”

“Nice, not flashy like them big rocks some of the young ‘uns want these days.”

“She’s a simple girl. She likes orchids.”

“As only the best do.”

He nods to the man, and climbs onto his bike. He pedals past shops, and whistles as a warm breeze tangles in his hair.

A shadow looms up beside him. A bus, going too fast. A dog skitters across the road. Tyres screech, the bus slews, and the world slams into him.

#

He broke his spine, he told the gathering.

When, eight months later, he could walk again, he arrived on the doorstep where she had lived with her sisters. His love was gone, and her family with her.

There were rumours of an indelicate situation. He followed whispers and echoes of her around the country. She married. A child, and then another.

He stopped searching. Grew orchids in glasshouses, and sold them to florists, hoping one day she would buy one and see herself.

“I picked up the paper two days ago. And there she was, my girl, about to get married.”

He walked towards the table where the bride’s mother quietly cried, placed a simple diamond ring on the table before her, and gave her a sad dimpled smile.

He bowed to her husband.

With a dignified limp he walked from the silent room.