Corazon culpa

Chapter 1

This afternoon, in Stockholm, Luca Spark will be releasing his second album "Light Swan" on a massive scale across music stores. Music store owners are prohibited from selling copies of their songs to the market before he himself who went down there.

Not yet had the prologue to the story of himself dry on the lips, a group of teenagers had raided the entire music store before 2 o'clock. How the owners of music stores and staff are not dizzy, if the ABG queue while screaming with excitement.

The elderly shopkeepers responded to their panic hysteria with panic.

"Joe!. Quickly grab the queue divider. We have to control these teenagers" he pointed to the barn door.

"So soon, sir."

Joe ran into the barn. He was looking for a rope barrier that binds firmly in the queue as a sign of the entrance of booming visitors.

"What's the matter today, sir ?. How are Stockholm residents so possessed?," pointed Joe at teenagers who are increasingly queuing up.

"They're in a trance because of Luca Spark. The pop singer. My son likes it too. Until he bought a copy of his first album and was standing at the cashier's desk asking for his autograph."

"That means he's a cool artist, sir."

"Yes, yes dong. The artist my son loves must be cool."

"But, we don't talk much first sir. Because there's a bunch of fish that we have to anticipate."

Joe pointed to a group of teenage girls who were rushing off the bus. When a man wearing a bright yellow jacket just got out of his car. He smiled, waving softly at the group of teenagers lined up in front of the store and walking casually into the music store accompanied by a large-bodied man called a bodyguard.

From across the street, I was standing on the sidewalk waiting for the traffic light to turn red. While carrying a bag of paper full of groceries, I passed by Heidi's car. The red car that stopped behind the pedestrian line quietly growled waiting for the lights to turn back green.

The blonde girl sitting on the bench opened the glass door of her car. He shouted to me calling my name.

"Estelle!. Want to be together ?." He waved a smile at me.

"I'll be there soon."

My two tiny legs ran across the street in great zeal. Because I was so excited, I did not pay attention to the color of the traffic lights with pedestrians. The color is still green. However, a few steps I ran towards Heidi's car, the color of the lights turned red.

The horn sounds of all the cars were pointing at me. The drivers told me to get into Heidi's car immediately.

Hikers, traveling bakers, queuing teenagers lined up in front of the music store all changed his gaze towards me.

Both of their eyes were staring in confusion at a little running girl. It wasn't my sweet move that they noticed but my rules-breaking behavior.

Arriving in Heidi's car, I laughed. My groceries on my thighs. Then, I told Heidi to drive her car.

Both have lived in Indonesia for a long time, Heidi is familiar with the violation of the ingrained red light there. For some people in Indonesia it is normal but, where they live now, Sweden cannot accept such a violation of the rules.

Heidi's brother is a cop. Diego works as a police officer in Stockholm. I heard from Heidi that she's on duty guarding a music store near El Lopez. The average residential area inhabited by Spaniards, Mexicans and other Latin countries is the residence of the Heidi family. Sometimes, in between my breaks, I stop by there to say hello.

In fact, today, Heidi and I stopped by the music store to say hello to Diego. The tall strapping man dressed in police uniform who was standing another policeman in front of the shop smiled broadly at our arrival.

"How are you, Brother Diego?" I said kindly.

"Very good, El," Diego replied to his brother Heidi's embrace.

"Don't today, Heidi. I'm busy on duty."

Diego did not grant his beloved brother Heidi's request. He told me to eat him lunch. But, Heidi rejected her brother's suggestion.

Heidi has better advice than her brother's ugly advice. She planned to leave in front of her brother after five dollars floated into his palm. Indeed, the money tips he usually receives on the day of celebration of the holiday are not worth asking today. The law became halal when the sister asked her brother for pocket money.

My friend who likes to shop still stands firmly in front of her brother. He won't leave until the pocket money goes into his pocket. Although, the person who was his priority had already arrived in front of the music store.

The person Diego is escorting is no stranger to me, Heidi and the person in Stockholm. The person who was tightly escorted with the bodyguard was none other than Luca Spark.

My favorite singer I've never seen in front of a music store across the street from the supermarket. The bright yellow jacket, the casual wave of his hands and his sweet smile were the hallmarks inherent to him today.

I've seen hundreds of his faces on my phone screen. So, I wouldn't go wrong recognizing that picture of the wallet tattoo on her neck.

In Stockholm, there is only one person who has such a tattoo. As far as I know, it was Luca, who was the first person to dare to tattoo himself among other down-to-earth singers in Stockholm.

From any physical point of view, Luca is not a native of Sweden. She is a singer of mixed Spanish and German blood who just happened to be famous in Sweden.

From the friendliness of the fans, both eyes shade and a face that is oval symmetrical is a characteristic that Luca has. Even as I advanced in front of him asking for an autograph. He took the paper I was holding.

"Are you Luca Spark ?."

"Do I look like he's not?" he asked. He gave her a signed piece of paper.

"It doesn't mean that. But, may I ask you one thing ?."

"Please," he said. He's waiting for my question.

It's not really my right to ask why he threw me out of his fan basket. I got this from him a few months ago. It's not his fault he threw me out of the basket because I might be the one at fault. But, if I don't ask now, maybe I won't get the answer and end up wondering for life.

Luca flicked his finger a few times in front of my face.

"Are you asking or not ?." I'm nodding.

Take a deep breath and take it out slowly. I asked my question.

"I followed you on Twitter. I also tagged your account frequently. But, why are you blocking my account ?."

"Simple only. Your twitter posts tagging my account are disturbing. You're too nosy. So I decided to block you. Is there another request ?."

"There's."

I crumpled the paper with his signature in front of his face. Then, confidently, I threw the lump of paper I had saved into the trash.

Lastly, before I left in front of him, I slapped him and scolded him.

I feel sorry for the fans who continue to support his music. The songs are meaningless. When I listen to my music playlist, I don't feel any feelings. In addition to the flat feeling mixed with anger because it has been expelled from the music store by Diego and his friends.

...***...