
Moving deeper, Angkasa came to the middle room while shouting to invite the arrival of the household assistant who was behind.
“Young Master.”
Space watched. “Myria is back yet, Bi?”
“Aibi don't know, Young Master.”
Feeling no need to extend the conversation, the Space changed towards the direction of the stairs. He had to go upstairs where his room was.
The floor occasionally squeaks when the sole of the shoe swipes the granite every day dipel. Space had forgotten to change footwear when entering the house was due to hurry.
The white paint door opened. The two eyes of Angkasa looked at the room that used to be occupied with Myria. He shouted again, but there was no answer. When he remembered his shoes were still in use, the young man took off and entered the room to check the bathroom.
Space is like being chased by criminals for running to and fro with irregular breaths. His black hair was a mess in the wind, exposed to street dust and sweating throughout the match. However, like anything he is, now is not the right time to take care of visual matters.
“Argh! What happened is the same lo, My.” Hands ruffling hair until messed up. Space's face started to tangle and looked like a frustrated person.
The young man did not remain silent. Space twists the brain to think more carefully where Myria is currently.
“Bego! Why don't I think of Friska.” The Space Rush reached into his pocket to search for a cell phone after cursing himself. His mind was too mummified to forget other things, but it was clear that the farewell Friska was going to take Myria.
Number pressed and waiting for call to be connected. However, until the sound of the connection runs out, it is not lifted by Friska.
Not wanting to give up, Angkasa called again. He repeated that up to four times because Friska really did not respond.
“Woi, Bar-Bar Girl, where do you take my wife?” Upset because the call was not lifted, Angkasa instead sent a voice note. Not long after, the voicemail finally ticked blue.
On the phone screen, Angkasa continued to pay attention to Friska's name contact who was still typing. He waited almost a minute, but was not finished. “Netic what the fuck this chick,” grunts again.
Patience is not much, Angkasa also type to ask the same thing. “Absweiss! Where are you Myria, Fris?” The send button is pressed, waiting for a reply.
Ten seconds passed, finally the message from Friska arrived. The girl sent me a photo without caption.
“Cemetery?” The forehead of Space shrivels. He zoomed in on a photo of his wife's best friend, then watched closely. “This must be the grave of the mother-in-law. But where is it? Argh, I followed it first until the old alley. Ntar nanya again.”
Before leaving, Angkasa took time to reply to Friska's message for a while. She asked her classmate to stay with Myria and wait until she arrived.
The motor is speeding like there are no rules. Angkasa uses its racing skills to break through the slightly congested streets of the hours people are about to have lunch. Armed with a makeshift memory while searching for Myria at night some time ago, she wanted to arrive soon.
Arriving in the alley that once found Myria, Angkasa opened the phone and used maps so as not to stray. The young man carefully observed the location around.
The motor drove again slowly, Space must be careful because the focus is divided between the road and the phone.
No need to travel long distances, it turns out that the funeral has been found. Angkasa parked his motorbike near the entrance gate. He walked slowly while circulating the view where Myria was.
When the eyes found the figure sought, the young man rushed over. He stepped still in silence not wanting to disturb.
Friska looked back as she felt noticed. He almost screamed because he had the creeps. However, that had not happened when it knew who was coming.
“My, come, go home. I want to zuhur.”
Still in a lowered position, Myria shook her head. Sometimes he rubbed the cheeks that had been soaked by tears.
“You can be dehydrated if this continues.”
Myria remained in her stance. “You go home first. I'll be back home too, kok.”
“Yes, already, I'm waiting for you.”
Friska's reply made Myria turn her head. “Back home, Fris. Auntie nyari you. Not to mention you have to mail a call from BK earlier.”
Busy worrying about Myria, Friska forgot that she had her own problems. The girl looked back again and was able to nod from Space.
“You really don't want to go home?”
Myria nodded. He continued to ponder and pluck out the small grass around his mother's grave.
“I'm home, yes. There are gauze here.”
Myria's tiny hands stopped. He looked completely at Friska and was able to smile, but did not return the slightest reply or look back to check the whereabouts of Angkasa. “Be careful,” he said as farewell to Friska.
Before moving on, Friska hugged Myria and gave a gentle swipe. He knew how sad his best friend was when he was in a tomb like this. There was nowhere Myria went but the mosque and the tomb of her mother when her heart was broken and powerless to hold back.
“Ka, I first.”
Space nodded. “Thanks.”
The wind blows ushered in the heat. The sun was rising and almost directly overhead. The burial area was so airy without any trees in the middle, there were only a few spots on the edges. However, no matter how hot the conditions are, Myria remains at home. He did not want to move even though he was waiting.
Seconds of the clock continued to move to deliver the Space to 30 minutes of waiting. The young man rubbed the dripping sweat several times from the fringe of the hair. He still faithfully stood behind his wife without speaking.
“My.” Space calls slowly. His feet began to step up and opened the jacket that had covered his sports jersey since. Up near Myria, he wore the black jacket for his wife. “Lo can hurt if deliberately drying the body kayak gini.”
Myria flinch. Not he did not hear, but it was still so hard to talk to anyone, especially to Space.
Ignored the umpteenth time, making Angkasa have to work hard to seduce. Because the female type of creature is difficult to understand and very sensitive. Therefore, there was a time when the son of the Master of Literature Aji Laksana was forced to learn to understand even though he could not be one hundred percent.
The young man with a height of 182 centimeters was instead put one hand into a pants pocket. Still standing holding a jacket, she said, “Women are indeed allowed a grave pilgrimage, but do not lament or ignore the rights of her husband.” Space pauses the talk. He glanced down to see Myria's response. “You how much longer lo here?”
.
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