Peter sat down with relief and laid his gnarled cane flat on the cold stone floor of the ancient bridge that forded the river.
“It was really dark last night, but I’m pretty sure this is the place.”
Alan pulled his brightly coloured scarf tighter to block out the early morning chill.
“Are you sure? It doesn’t feel right.”
“You’re too young to remember but this is how it used to be.”
They placed a pile of hastily printed sheets and a stack of cheap plastic pens on the rickety table and waited in silence.
After a while, a young couple entered the bridge, hand in hand, lost in conversation.
Alan sprung to greet them.
“Passports and Visas.”
They looked surprised. The man advanced towards Alan.
“I’ve crossed here for forty years : all my family is on the other side.”
“Well you should have thought of that before voting leave in the referendum, shouldn’t you.”
The man returned Alan’s gaze and coughed nervously.
“I didn’t vote.”
Roger Shipp is our host for the weekly Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner challenge and provided the photo prompt and the words in italics. I don’t think I need to explain my story this week. I’m not happy with the result of the UK Referendum but I did vote.