Gharib Love
Where's MyHome?
...>>>Happy Reading<<<...
Aini started riding the bus with a sour face, looking around at the seats on the bus and looking around for empty seats.
He did not enjoy the trip at all, his mind runyam did not know what to do. his phone still stay in the bag, after all no one would care about him.
"Capek, who should you tell?" Aini screamed loudly in the deepest heart.
A girl is trying to enjoy the journey by playing music that can be heard by herself, but in the middle of the journey;
He enjoyed the song too much to realize his tears fell. So difficult to express, but what is the power of friends just friends.
"I can't tell anyone, because they don't really care but only for my life. Even if they don't like me, then they'll laugh the loudest behind me."
Suddenly,,,
"Sir,"
A handclap greeted Aini's shoulder, while she tried to wipe away her tears with her palm just like back then.
"Bak, get off where?"
A conductor approached him from behind, because in front of the conductor there were people still standing looking for a seat.
"Down near the front red light, sir!"
Aini stuck her index finger forward, as if directing the path to be addressed.
"How, Sir?"
Yes, Aini has not delivered a piece of paper to the conductor but has been willing to reach the destination.
"Five thousand!"
The conductor gave a lower price than usual, because at that time of day; Aini did not intentionally wear an alma mater suit. That he is in the level of education, or commonly called a student.
"Oh; this, sir!"
Aini had prepared money to go and go home, or for other purposes; which came suddenly.
"Ready," the conductor answered by noting the structure he held.
"Dear me, don't forget me, love me, with all your heart."
The pearls of Aksa flowed back so hard. The song that plays explains the presence of a loved one. What is this power that no one wants to understand, let alone embrace his body.
"Gini yes, have ever felt like an outcast. I've tried to get out of the house, and there are many others I'm not fully aware of."
Aini's monologue came back; she complained not because she was not strong, because complaining was also one of the medicines to cultivate the spirit.
"So gini is the way to deal with life; full of twists and turns, full of insults, just full of bitter, sweet, and sour life. Not appreciated at all."
"With such a problem, can I tell the same story
Same mom for that incident? I'm afraid, it'll definitely incriminate them."
The grievances that were self-expressed and heard filled the door of his heart. Aini felt she had to have a home to go home to.
The house he currently occupies feels not home, which every time he comes just to eat, drink, take a bath, and just sleep. No one will want to know our own story.
Everyone must have their own problems, have their own stories, but not everyone wants to tell them; sometimes everyone does not want to hear the story.
Aini's hand began to feel inside her backpack to pick up the phone that had been heard the sound of music. Yes, the sound of the music he got from the headset that had been stuck in his ear.
Then Aini opens the data packet that was originally deleted,
"Ddrrrrrt, ddrrrrrt.."
A lot of WhatsApp is scattered in the chat field. Indeed, the majority are obtained from the group, but there are also some personal who give a message to him.
"Where's the position?"
"Why so?"
"Halooo!"
"When you return to your hearts."
The messages in this chat seemed to arouse Aini's appetite to detect their behavior, and select who will be the house where she stopped.
One by one he replied to those chats with a mediocre face,
Still while trying to enjoy the journey home, still gathering awareness in thinking, still stringing the right strategy to explain the incident that occurred earlier.
While suddenly he even remembered the incident accidentally in a few years ago, where he got a message from his mother to leave pocket money. But in the middle of a journey filled with memories of water because after the rain; the money left behind it fell in a puddle. He tried to find, but nothing was found.
When at home he told me about the incident, uh his mother could not believe instead why the money was made snack.
"Hmmmmmmmmmm," Aini's breath unasked.
"Bismilahbornrahmanirrahim,"
…
The bus had stopped at the subscription place, and on a leisurely walk he was about to approach his father who had been waiting.
"Home home? Don't you wanna stop by first?" The voice of the mother sounded clear.
Aini's warung bu leknya turned out to be still open, and when the mother leknya knew that Aini had come home; mother leknya offered Aini to stop by for a moment, even to nawarin to eat first before going home.
"Hmmm," Aini widened her lips so pretentiously cheerful.
"Go home straight away, mother lek! It's also at this hour. It's been picked up!"
Aini's feet headed towards the bu lek just about to salaman.
When Mom's hand was right in her nose,
mom offered the same thing again.
"Let's stop by first, don't give me any food!"
Aini again gently refused, "Excellent, mother lek. Next time, it's already at this hour."
Leknya ma'am immediately resigned to what Aini said, because her words were nothing wrong.
Time has shown at 18 o'clock more, it's time he got home. If not, then the whole house will worry about him. By coming home on time he will gain full trust, by coming home late; he will come across with questions that need quick and precise answers.
…
When entering adolescence, Aini began to get what she wanted all this time; namely the affection of parents, who do not discriminate between her and others.
At this time he can no longer be required to be equal to A or B, let alone distinguished; because all are clearly different and very cannot be equated.
Although Aini is currently included in the category of favorite children of parents, she will never forget the stories when the parents' education against her was not in the realm.
Hand violence has become a daily intake, but she is conscious and grateful.
After he entered the cottage, the affection of his parents was so much more. It turned out that the state of the economy had improved, and was grateful; when violence was committed, he never had any sense of resentment at all. It's just that his story is still imprinted in memory and will always be a valuable learning in life.
On the way with his motorbike, Aini again restless and re-stir inward;
"No story with my mom about that?"
"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah"
>>>Bonnect...
