Summer’s First Kiss

SpentSummer’s first kiss

A fantasy

A fumble

A moment made humble.

Not stolen;

Theft.

~*~

“Do you remember your first kiss?” Summer asked of her mother.

“Oh, darling, that was such a long time ago.” She thought for a moment. “It certainly wasn’t with your dad.”

“That would be a no, then?” Summer was despondent.

“Yes, that would be a no. … What about you?” Her mother asked, mildly curious. “Do you remember yours?’

Summer thought for a moment. Dare she tell her mother the truth of that first moment her lips touched those of another? She’d never mentioned it before. Too much shame attached to it. Not a kiss by choice; a kiss by chance. Someone else’s chance. No romance. A moment of groping in a dark theatre by a boy who’d asked her out under false pretences; her boundaries crossed when she had no border guard. All she’d wanted to do was watch The Pink Panther. 

“No, mother, I don’t remember my first kiss.”

~*~

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Sadly, not all first kisses are what we might wish.

Written in response to Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday challenge.

Thanks for visiting,

Dorothy

©Dorothy Chiotti, Aimwell CreativeWorks 2014