Lutfi Gilang's

Part One

Port of Istanbul, Turkey.

The wind rustled spoiled. Sending the aroma of the dry season to every person in the most magnificent expanse of ports in the country. In addition to the falling leaves, the whistling of the birds, the cry of the ships, the rumbling of the servants dragging cargo into the nearby warehouses, the, there were also colors from the reflected sunlight lined up neatly and formed a semicircle that I had no idea where the end of the two was.

I looked up at the head. Breathe a long breath. Trying to feel the air with my whole body— maybe you already felt it a few days before I arrived at this place. I don't know, I don't know, nor can I guess anything about you. At least I'm saying now, you're probably stranger than when I was in high school.

I remember, when you called me the Sleeping King, it was quite embarrassing indeed. And, they're not wrong about that, because I do fall asleep every lesson that starts, even outside of that time. So, I feel no problem with that nickname.

I looked back at the seven colors that adorned the blue sky. Really, it feels like I've heard something about rainbows from you. I kept trying to remember previous events, but nothing came of it. Well, somehow men are created more forgetful than women.

Slowly my feet moved towards an empty chair facing the master at the delivery of the sea. It didn't take long until I finally sat leaning back while my eyes still didn't turn on the rainbow.

“Rangi, yeah? Come and go so fast, but look forward to very long.”

Breathe in. Back the brain showing your imaginary figure.

“Are you not like him, who is present and beautiful only for a moment?”

I flinched, after remembering the incident.

🌹🌹🌹

Nine years ago.

When you and I were sitting lined up in Situ Bamban swamp while I was enjoying a glass of iced coconut, not with you because you were having a monthly guest. Your wavy hair due to the afternoon wind is no less beautiful than the scenery at that time. Although I'm sure, to you, I only care about my drinks.

About five minutes we were silent and enjoyed each other's gaze until suddenly a rainbow appeared.

“See, there's a rainbow.” I said.

You just nodded and smiled without facing me and it left me speechless, at least I was confused thinking about the right topic of conversation. And, I was too shackled in it to make the atmosphere return to silence.

Before long, not even reaching ten minutes the colourful had faded and returned as it was. Staring at you, trying to say something but I see your lips moving. So, I decided to shut up and listen to your words.

“I don't want to be a rainbow.”

“Why?”

“Oooh.... so you want to be famous?”

You suddenly looked at me sharply with an expression of annoyance, making me think I was making a mistake again. But when I wanted to apologize, you suddenly said: “I better be your cloud.”

“Awan?”

Nodding then holding his head. “Women are not as beautiful as rainbows, but there is always.”

“You want to nemenin me?”

There's no answer, all I see is you smile. Seeing that smile of yours really makes my heart no longer work normally.

The wind blows again as if accompanying romantic nuances for us, or just for me a person. I don't know, I don't know anything about hidden feelings. But, actually I was again carried away by the feeling after you said that sentence.

“Or so the wind can also. Airing, to always accompany and accompany you every time.”

I flinched great. Just kept quiet so happy. Even let you stray far enough until I catch up with you on a red matic bike and give you a ride home.

🌹🌹🌹

Well, it's a great memory. Just imagining it makes me more and more put a huge taste. After all, I am indeed the type that will not express love if the person you like does not have a similar taste. In short, I am afraid of rejection.

Speaking of being rejected, I became more and more curious about everything that happened to you. I really didn't expect my birthday gift to be your diary. A treasure that I should not even approach even from ten meters away for the previous nine years. But, I don't know. It's your gift, and I haven't opened it until I catch you to Turkey, the country you're so desperate to visit.

Hand reached into the upper pocket, grabbing my prize. Looks like a special pink little book for teenage girls. I opened the hook slowly with a 1001 whipping feeling in the chest. In my brain just keep repeating the question, “Does it matter if I read it?” But I keep doing it until the book opens on the first page.

My heart beats even more when I see your writing is so neat and charming but still looks firm as you look. “Finally, I will reveal a secret I never knew about you.”

Big dock, March 30, 2019

Rizky Gilang Kurniawan's

The man who keeps missing you,

Lutfi Nurtika's.