DUSK ON WHITE LIPS

8. Lake in dimples

Lukijo almost frowned upon hearing Shely's story.

"Take Jo!"

Shely's eyes almost bought wide because they wanted to convince what he had just revealed.

Lukijo tied back the sack containing the grass in the bonnet of Pak Prapto's motorcycle tril that told him to look for grass for his Goat.

"What did Wati say about Fate?" he said with busy hands pulling the rope made from the inner tube of the motor that has many former patches.

Shely shook her head quickly with attention.

"Wati just kept crying Jo!"

Lukijo slipped Arit in the folds of the sack that he did not fill, then slipped between the rubber strap crosses on the sack on the motor.

Just finished he narrowed, Shely came and told me about Wati who still often cried like yesterday morning while in the rice hut.

"Jo, what exactly happened Jo?"

Lukijo looked at the face nearby, a curious look etched into Shely's eyes, though dimples near his lips similar to those on Wati's face almost disappeared in the fretful pias.

"I asked you, exactly" he replied, who did not know. Remembering yesterday Wati also hunted home.

The restless hue was increasingly radiated in a clean look, as clean as the dew that had not been awakened for long by the warmth of the Sun.

Lukijo stared at his feet wet with the remains of dew behind the new grass. So different from the feet of people nearby, like thick mud and white sand on a beautiful beach.

"Maybe Wati doesn't want to tell Jo yet?"

Lukijo mesem bated nodded, looking at Shely's smile that was not as beautiful as usual.

"Pity Kevin Jo."

Lukijo termangu was silent.

"What then? Changed?"

Lukijo only sighed softly, Shely's question made him stare far down the hillside. Too many stories are engraved on every road and valley that has been traced Wati and Fate.

Even the place where He and Shely stood did not escape the trace of their love.

How will Wati forget Fate? While the Hill is still standing upright in every view, love is still embedded in coral rocks that have been coated with asphalt, like an eternal fossil every time the foot treads it.

If there is now sorrow that is re-exposed because of what Wati thinks is unfair to his heart, it is appropriate that the tears return to bathe the old taste dry.

It will again overflow even though love will no longer be possible to combine as before. But a sense in the heart will lead him in hurt and regret.

Lukijo shed his gaze, staring at the arid wet ground under the soles of his feet.

Slowly look at Shely.

"Shely, we're going to Mr. Prapto's house."

Shely nodded sadly. Immediately walk to the Matic Motor.

The distinctive sound of the mountain motor exhaust was heard breaking the silence as Lukijo pulled the gas lever.

Sounded off in the distance.

The wild grasses that were trampled on by the spinning tires, collapsed momentarily in the clay that would soon dry up in the scorching rays that began to rise.

The face of the hillside will be wet again not with the morning mist and dew, but with the sweat of the Hill dwellers who skin it with hope.

Caping-caping Mountain will also decorate every green that grows like umbrellas shady heart will the business that is lived.

The machete and hoe became a pen to record in every piece of land planted on the Mount, in the labors of the future and hope.

Lukijo immediately took Motor to the back of Pak Prapto House, while Shely had been sitting sweetly under PJKM aka Pink Button Tree, of course with a smile dimpled his tiny.

Lukijo mesem, seeing Pak Prapto who was still covered in sarongs, half shivering sitting hanging out in the kitchen doorway.

"Still merry sir?"

He asked by lifting the grass in a sack from the top of the motor.

"No jo! Achy all my body, Jo,"

Lukijo mesem understand. Put grass near the cage.

Cages that were once filled Goats still remain as before, there are only a few Bamboo slats and boards that look used in repairs on the face of the Cage and door.

The bleating sound that was also familiar in the ear made him look at one by one Goat who began to enjoy the fresh grass that he just took.

"Jo, let me feed you later."

Lukijo mesem approaching Pak Prapto.

"Open Mr. Prapto still sick?" his question saw a weak face holding back a sense of joy.

"Udah mengingan Jo, just still feels weak," said Mr. Prapto shivering slowly.

"That father told Shely where you're nailing."

Lukijo mesem wide with sitting deprok leaning against the walls of the House.

"Your boyfriend Jo?" asked Mr. Prapto to try to smile.

Lukijo laughed softly.

"Yes not appropriate sir, if the new employer deserves it," he replied by looking at Shely sitting down.

Mr. Prapto groaned with his little laugh.

"Is it because Shely's a native of jo?"

Lukijo turned his head, then fell down to carve the ground with dry grass strands.

"Shely is like Wati for me, sir, a beautiful and sweet native. Being their friend is already quite proud in the imperfections of my life, sir," he explained without looking at Mr. Prapto's face.

Mr. Prapto watched with increasingly close the sheath on his body.

"But at least something makes your heart moan during the night jo," he said withstanding the pain in his body.

Lukijo.

A blaring sound was heard from the cage.

"Other of them?" continued Pak Prapto.

"Maybe sir." Lukijo breathed Breath. Staring at the scorching rays that slipped in the precarious cage.

"Until He can accept Himself Sir." saw the dry grass on the ground.

His concern is like re-creasing in the dry strands of grass. Fragile murats of memories alongside distant laughter in the smell of brown sugar stew, faintly smelled in memory. Love that has been felt, where longing feels moaning when the night is so beautiful felt when love is near on the side.

"jo, I'll see you soon!"

The last word he remembered, before a car carried the figure He loved away carrying his hope.

Every night, every seething sound of oil was heard from the fried cart where He worked. Every eye also always sees on the roadside every light beam of vehicles or people who buy fried foods, hoping to hear back the sound of love that calls him.

But hope it is as bad as it seems, day after day that changes increasingly depleting his atmosphere.

But He also understood, if love does not return is not all his fault, the blessing of both parents above all else.

And on the Mount He returns not only empty-handed but a lesson of true love that love will not be able to overcome form and caste, no matter how sincere love.

The heaven of love that is aspired to be too heavy to be achieved only by relying on love in the heart, without any support in terms of appearance and material.

Only a silent lake will bear witness to the clear love that is immersed in the coldness of despair, increasingly covered with floating flowers that spread over a taste of a heart.

"Joe!"

Lukijo turned to Pak Prapto.

Mr. Prapto almost laughed, but the pain in his body was like holding back the motion on his lips.

Lukijo mesem with standing. Looking towards Shely despite being blocked by the walls of the House. Looks like he should see her soon.

"Sir, I'll take care of you."

Pak Prapto stood up with a grimace of pain.

"Yes Jo, don't be in vain is a beautiful person who is sitting alone," he joked trying to look in front of the House.

Lukijo mesem restrained.

"Pak Prapto can do it." by leaving Pak Prapto.

"Jo, get used to it! For the beautiful!" Mr. Prapto with a grimacing laugh.

Lukijo looks mesem.

"Unfortunately I can't Sir!" he said while walking.

Mr. Prapto straightened the scabbard again. It seemed like a gust of wind made his body shiver again, almost limping into the House.

Lukijo mesem bowed as Shely's eyes saw him approaching.

The wind swish was like the swish of stiff footsteps approaching the shade of the hall under PJKM.

Hearts wanted to sit near the face that was sad staring at the mountains in the distance, but fretted to hold the body to stand.

"Jo, sit jo"

Lukijo turned his head slowly and his heart seemed to be choked, He saw a tear on Shely's cheek.

It seemed like the clear lake had also bathed in the tiny dimples on Shely's cheeks.

She immediately turned her face when Shely saw her.

"jo's."

Shely's voice was lethargic again calling out to him.

"Shely's own," he said mesem without turning his head.

"Well, Jo, just sit by me"

Lukijo is getting messy.

"Anything Shely, if I sit beside you, the goat behind must be on the yell," now looking at Shely.

Shely smiled even though she looked sad.

Lukijo pursed his heart by holding his breath slowly. Dimple back visible among the clear lake marks, his heart like swish, so lucky people who can caress the cheek beside him, his heart sounds like hanging on a small branch of PJKM.

"Jo, if you keep standing I'll just go home!" Shely by standing up.

Lukijo mesem looked at him.

"Yes, I want to go home too" he said slowly.

Shely stared at the pain.

Lukijo is getting messy.

Although a little upset about Lukijo's remarks, Shely immediately pulled Lukijo's hand towards the road.

Lukijo just followed the pull of Shely, had seen the fingers that circled his hands, the two colors that were familiar to him. Both colors are difficult to combine.

The road that will decline, will continue to decline to the foot of the hill.

Although the steps of the two side by side split the hardness of the asphalt look soft. But the awkward heart was so hard covered with a stiff smile Lukijo between Shely's sad smile.

There were not many words spoken, just a crowd of steps making a trail without a trace.

Shely's sad hue makes Lukijo even more silent without knowing what to do.

"Jo, actually Wati why Jo?"

Shely's question made Lukijo see her feet were so delicate and a little still muddy.

"Later to ask Shel together," he replied turning his head slowly to the face that was waiting for his answer.

"We exercise the road first, let our minds also sweat," he sambunngnya with a rigid mesem.

Shely mesem a little pouty, but the pace is getting faster. As if he wanted to run on a fairly downhill road.

Lukijo followed him.

Both also run small, such as removing the stiffness of the heart that is restless and sad.

The tares of roadside weeds and on the cliffs they pass through, like accompanying with a special whiz in the wind. Sometimes a little Shely laughter adorned on the lips that were sad about Wati's attitude.

The two also sometimes run small, sometimes walking like following the heart, splitting the ridge of the paved Hill, but maybe both forget the motorcycle parked in front of the House Pak Prapto.

Only the whispering whirr of the wind reminded, yet they would never understand the silir sound in the ears.

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