OWNER OF HEART

The Eps 9

“I'm sure most writers, write themselves.” The travel message came in again.

I mused the sentence. “writing himself” from where can he think like that? In that story, I told my story. Some of my other writings are also not real, there are though of things around me. I've been tasting it. But….

“What kind of thought is that?” I finally asked. I wonder the answer.

Travelers laugh, “great once humans can make up the story in its entirety, without imitating it from a real story

iota.”

This time I laughed.

“Just because I wrote the story of our meeting, does not mean all writers are so.”

“M, read my sentence again. I'm not saying all writers. I said mostly.”

“Iya deh.”

Travelers don't reply anymore. I reread our conversation. I can't believe it can be this easy. Given our somewhat stiff and tense conversation. Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow again we talk more often.

Small things everyday. About the weather, about the traffic jam, about the movie, about the rest of the neighbor's cat. Until somewhere he wants to visit when his leave is diacc one day. We also talked about Neruda's poetry, Gus Mus's poetry, and some of Nicholas Spark's novels.

Sometimes travelers send photos of a cup of coffee plus with matches. I'm not commenting anything. About the match and her partner. He also sent a photo of a bird that perched on a wooden branch.

“See M, the bird is so lonely.”

But this time I returned the message by sending the kwaci skins I just ate. Oh my God,

to this day I don't know how many packets of kwaci I bought. Rini got suspicious because I switched tastes from banana chips to kwaci.

“Not because of him, right?”

“Who is he?”

“Who else if not that mizone bottle.”

I'm awake, “Pengelana.” I clearly.

Rini just shook her head. “You want him to travel, adventure, travel, or be ready. I'm sure it's not his real name.”

I'm still laughing. “I don't care, want it's real name or not.”

Oh, ja. Talking about Traveling, after we became friends on facebook, it turns out there are many posts that are only set to special. One of them is an album that contains poems.

What makes me wonder is that the poems are written on a tissue.

“Why do you like to write on a tissue?” my many.

“What is the question, M?”

That's Travelling. When asked often, ask. Seeing him so sometimes I look like I see another side of myself in him. Maybe it's true said Pengelana, we're a little bit the same. Just a little, even he also said that my writing style is a little similar to his writing style. Of course he repeated again by emphasizing on the word ‘just a little’. I can feel that indeed, I mean the similarity of writing styles. Our diction especially.

“If you don't want to answer yes already.” I reply so, because I don't want to be impressed too curious.

“Later will also be missed,” he said.

I guess he needs time to answer my question, or maybe it's something confidential? But, in the afternoon, when I was in the hospital, he sent me a picture of a tissue clot with a slightly long writing. I just read it after work.

“You know why a tissue?  So that I can easily squeeze and throw it away. Who wants to pick up old tissue? Even you feel disgusted, M? In my head I was full of words. Sometimes I get confused about how to put it into a sentence. I tried to write on social media. They gave me a variety of emoticons, thumbs, hearts and others. Then, what does that mean? It's nonsense. Because they'll never know what the truth is.”

I was stunned, long reading the sentences of the wanderer. I don't know why I felt so sad when I read it. When viewed from the times he uploaded on social media it seems like he has long done the habit.

“Your writing is good.” I said, “ini is also good.” I sent some of those tissue photos.

“Already, M. I'm not a little boy.”

“I'm not being praised, I'm talking facts.” I'm silent for a moment. Trying to read his emotions.

“We never know, which of our writings inspires others, right?” i said again.

Travelers send sad emoticons.

I let out a breath.

“Don't do that.” I said.

“Terus?”

“Don't be sad that way, I mean.”

“You know, M. I intend to throw away the tissue clots in the hope that the contents of my head are also wasted. But the more I write it, the more my head gets full.”

I took another breath. Maybe the man had memories.

“Mungin he grew on your head.”

Travelers reply with sad emoticons again. I returned the same emoticons. I don't know why my eyes are hot.

“Not at all, really. Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

“Still also have to be bothered.”

It was the most emotional conversation since we talked. We just ended the conversation. Twenty-three ten minutes. I turned off the phone, the battery was only three percent. I'll get a charger soon.

As I went to bed and recited the prayer, after praying for Father and Mother, I mentioned Daffa's name, pleading with God to ease his days. I also mentioned the name of the wanderer. I pray for him that he will always be happy.

Tomorrow, I'll propose that he send his poems to the media.

***

“M.”

“You believe, incantation?”

My God, what kind of question is that, incantations? I was transported after my service when I received a message from the Traveler.

“Why ask that?”

“Crust no?”

Believe what not, huh? Sometimes things like that still exist, right?

“I don't know,” I reply so because I really don't know what answer Travelers expect.

“Conon said, someone who made me escape it, until bathed in flowers three times, the first did not mempan.”

I shut my mouth. Are the travelers joking? Flower bath? Oh my God, in an age like this?

“Who did?”

“His parents.”

“Why is that?”

“For him to forget me.”

I'm stunned. “Your relationship is not sanctioned?”

Travelers send emoticons laughing. I didn't know if her story was like this.

love that girl? Ah, there's a sense of dagger impaled in my heart.

“Why don't you fight?”

“Collecting people who don't want to fight?”

“Surely he doesn't want to fight?”

“No why people insult me M. But when that insulted my family, I certainly chose to fight for my family's honor.”

I'm termangu.

“So , she can really forget it is like you?” I asked out of curiosity as well how the spells worked.

“Last met his gaze blank.”

“Prospect.”

“Yes, pity. But what else do you want?”

I kept the phone and got off the transport immediately. Cloudy low gray. The wind blows harder. The smell of rain. I walked a few meters to change.

My phone is back. The traveler sends a video of the rain for a few seconds.

“It's a kind of heavy rain and falls quietly,” I said.

“You don't know before you fall, lightning, thunder clamoring so loud. Like yelling a name from masalalu.”

Spontaneous I laugh. Until some passengers look at me. Then, instantly my laughter came to a halt as I read the Traveler's question.

“If the person you don't want to say his name is, what do you think he left for? Don't-don't let him go because of you..”.

Why do travelers ask that? I didn't type any answers. Even to get off the transport and up to the boarding. Anyway how do I know Daffa left because of who, right?

When my activities at the boarding house are finished, I open the phone and I send a message to Traveler, “I don't know.”

“See the light shimmered good.”

I smiled, The traveler sent pictures of street lights. Was good. I looked around, was there anything unique for me to photograph and send? Mizone used bottle with a smile picture and a few words? Oh no! He can't know if I keep it. But I'm grateful he didn't ask about Daffa anymore.

I typed something in response. But I'll delete it again, tomorrow…