Each day she looked at that tall iron gate as she went about selling pens on the street. She looked at the gate as a barrier between her and a life of luxury, a life of comfort and immense happiness. With longing in her eyes she would look at the gate covering the huge bungalow, stop there and fill her eyes with the images of the gate. She would promise herself that she will one day make it to the other side of the gate.
One day as she reached her favorite spot, she found something unusually noisy. There were many people, policemen, vans and ambulance entering the open gate. Out of curiosity she moved inside and asked one of the officer what the matter was. “The husband killed his wife to stay with his mistress.” was the surprising answer. Not another word was needed and she moved out of the gate, not once did she turn to look at it again. “Life is not so rosy behind the iron gate.”, she thought as she made her way back to selling pens.
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