The Iron Gate

Photo and Story by
Gretchen Fogelstrom

Hank.  He leaned across the iron gate and kissed me right on the lips. Pow.  I felt a rush I had never felt before.  It crept up and out radiating in my cheeks and all the way down to my finger tips.  I couldn’t help myself, I leaned over that gate and kissed him right back.

I started a journal that night.  I just had to write down what his lips felt like and the tingling that shot through my body.  Just in case it didn’t happen again, I’d have a good place to recall the memory.

But it did happen again, and often.  We dated all through our senior year of high school.  But he was one of the lucky ones and got a scholarship to college.   Me, I got a job in the local diner.  But that was okay.

Ever since I started that first journal I couldn’t stop writing.  I expanded to short stories and soon was on to longer ones.  Working at the diner gave me plenty of ideas to write about.

I finally got my first story published last year.  The rush of approval and thinking of all those eyes on my words, it was something similar to the shot of tingly from that first kiss.  I have to thank Hank.  Leaning over that old, weathered, iron gate to kiss me; he jump-started my life.


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Filed under January

2 responses to “The Iron Gate

  1. I didn’t have a Hank in high school, but I had one in college who I wished had kissed me. I am working on a story that involves part of that whole love affair that never was… Love this piece!

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