Don't Insult Me

Strike

Salsa drove his motorcycle across the street. Wearing a helmet, leather trousers and a large long shirt and an instant hijab up to the waist. When it comes to shopping, she always looks like that.

He arrived at the market and started shopping for necessities. Just like Anisa, now she also has fans such as an angkot driver, young traders, to mobile banks in the market.

"Salsa, where are you going?" asked one of the drivers when he just passed in front of him.

"You shop, Bang," Salsa said with a smile.

"Oh, can smile too, Sa. No doubt arrogant people can smile," said a fruit trader who already knows Salsa. That is how he is moving toward goodness. There are so many people who judge and assume that it is as if they are always wrong.

"I have a mouth, Mom. If I don't have a new mouth, I can't smile. It's just you have a mouth, so you can do people." Salsa has changed. But she can't behave like Anisa who has a high level of patience. Sometimes there are some people who must be resisted because insulting him has become a habit.

"Heh, you don't have manners."

"Heheh, sorry, Mom. If people are polite to me then I will be polite as well. But if it is not polite, didiemin will diggelunjak, even more stepped."

Salsa also chose to leave the fruit merchant and shop at his subscription store. He was good friends with the store owner until he felt comfortable if he continued shopping there.

After finishing shopping, Salsa went home with a basket full of various materials to stock in the refrigerator.

However, as he was crossing the street, he suddenly felt something strange on his motorcycle. The pull feels very heavy and the handlebar is difficult to control.

He decided to stop and see what happened to his motorcycle tyre on the front. He finally knew the problem. The motorcycle tire had a leak.

However, he had just walked while guiding his motorcycle, he was approached by someone who used a motorcycle matic and a jacket and helmet.

"Sa, why?" tanyanya while watching the Salsa motorcycle.

"This, Mas, the tires are leaking," he said slowly. He knows the man. An offline ojek named Reza.

"Here, let me take you there. It must be heavy, right. You use a motorcycle Mas aja," bargained Reza while giving up his motorcycle.

"No need, dear, Mas, afraid of nicotine," said Salsa who immediately became wrong behavior. He did not even dare to look at the man he had known for a long time.

"No papa, Sa. Here." Reza picked up Salsa's motorcycle and guided it to a nearby tire patch.

Salsa rode on Reza's motorcycle and approached him to the tire patch.

And while waiting for the tire patch to finish, Reza also invited Salsa to drink at the beverage stall next to the tire patch.

Salsa has known Reza for several years. He often uses the services of Reza if he goes to the city because of the crowded streets and his fear of riding a motorcycle on such a big road. While to the market alone he had to pass through the cutting road so as not to pass the highway.

Reza is a twenty-eight-year-old motorcycle taxi driver. Has a handsome stature, tall, and ever viral because a passenger once took a picture of him and called him a handsome kang ojek.

But he did not get married because he was waiting for someone he really liked. Salsa just didn't know how much Reza loved her all this time.