OWNER OF HEART

Eps 10's

“As the moon stuck on the power pole anyway?”

After dawn I replied to a traveler's message about a photo of a street light sent last night.

“Contact one.” Mumbles.

I continued my morning activities. Read a few pages, and type in a weekly article while enjoying breakfast a plate of papaya fruit.

Today, I have no scheduled service or holiday. Last night I decided to go to the library located on Brawijaya street, along with some of my literary friends. Maybe it will be a little busy, because

I was looking for material to be a novel order from a publisher. This is my fourth experience, being asked to write by a publisher. Long before, my works had always been unresponsive on their part.

In the literacy group, many notifications began about authorship. There are also some just writing the word ‘nyimak’. It is common in the scope of authorship. I just smiled reading some of the contents of their conversation.

Back to the message I sent to the Traveler, which still looks tick one. I also decided to get ready to go to the public library, while waiting for my friend to pick me up. From the window I looked out. The sky looks blue. Hope it doesn't rain today. Because I was lazy to bring my beloved umbrella.

The traveler just sent a message five minutes ago. But he deleted it before I could read it. I'm weighing to ask, why removed? But I broke my intention.

*****

After the library my head was dizzy. For fear of getting sick. I finally decided to take my medicine and rest. However, my eyes seemed to be unable to compromise. I've been trying to

closed it, but my mind went crazy somewhere. I can't sleep stuff for a minute. I finally decided to open social media while lying on the bed.

Giving a few thumbs up on the status of a friend I know. Congratulations to a writer, for just spawning his latest noverl. Somewhat long stopped in his comment field that was selling a new book, seeing maybe there was a match.

I also shifted the screen, until it reached the status of the Traveler.

‘The man looked around. Try to be comfortable with the aroma and atmosphere. He caught various faces with his expression

respectively. The man stood up as his name was called. An officer opened the door and smiled at him. He handed the map to the old man in a white coat, who then carefully examined the inner papers

map it.”Ready for tomorrow?” operation the man just smiled and nodded slowly.’

“Who wants operation?”

Online traveller. I was waiting for his reply. Five minutes staring at the screen. Then he sent a picture of a rose with a smile emoticon. “This is a real flower, not an imitation.”

Of course it's not funny. Because I asked seriously.

“Who is sick?” I need answers.

“Quiet, I can still get up. Holding a bahkakn flower pictures it for you.”

That means, a sick traveler?

“What pain?” dadagu instantly beat fast. What pain did he have to have surgery for?

The traveler replied two minutes later. He sent a photo while saying, “ini secret, we.”

I'm trying to get the results of the CT-Scan. Oh my God, can't he have the disease?

“Serious you hurt that?”

“What do I hurt?”

“You are sick?” I also repeated the question.

“I asked, do you understand what pain I am?”

I'm choked. I'd really like to say that I'm a doctor, and understand that he's currently suffering from a dangerous disease.

“You want operation, right?” I know my question looks stupid. But I was being ambushed by worry.

“Doctor said so, but calm down. Even now I can still enjoy coffee,” reply. But I know he's lying when he's enjoying coffee.

“You...” I don't know what to say. “When is the operation?”

“Insya Allah tomorrow duhur. Pray for the best?”

Of course I will wish him all the best. But that means I'm still in the hospital.

“Hopefully smooth everything, hopefully soon to heal. Now rest.”

My knees are shaking. Read the CT scan he showed. My eyes were heating up, I bit my lips, I didn't feel my tears just falling. In my little heart, I don't want to lose a traveler. If he were close, I would have found him, and I would have comforted him, though he might not have asked me to comfort him.

***

“Mheta?” greet my kost friend. “Why is that pale?”

“What if something happens? So we've been talking all this time she's been enduring the pain?” I thought about all that, while arranging the clothes I just took from the laundry place.

Prasal Sinus malignancy is a rare tumor

be found. Only one percent of all malignant tumors in the body, and

three percent of malignancies in the head and neck.

“God, hope the Traveler is okay.”

After packing the clothes I took from the laundry, I decided to lock the door to my room. I started checking whatsapp and looking at online travelers. But I dare not greet him. I pray and

switch to doing something else.

****

I was awake until three in the morning. It feels like the night is so long. I struggled with an uncomfortable feeling. I ablaze and dwell for a long time on the prayer mat. I whispered to my Lord about

my worries. I begged and begged Him for the Traveler's health.

You never felt as heavy as today to go to work. I think I want permission to be able to wait for the seconds before the Traveler operation, yes, although I do not know, where the Traveler is currently. Because

from the beginning of our conversation, we never asked which region we were in. Different regions or. I don't know.

I had breakfast with nausea. Rini said that I look so pale. So I decided to answer that I had a headache.

Kusapa Wander, “later how long is the operation?”

The traveler replied after ten minutes later. “Neighborhood.”

Oh God. Should the doctor tell him? If the operation takes two to three hours-man.

“Dibius, yes?” stupidest question I ever asked. I'm a doctor, I shouldn't ask you that.

“Pastya!” answer Rovers.

“God willingly all well, you will surely be cured soon.” I answered with a smile emoticon. Though my heart feels like it's being showered by bullet boys. Be ill.

Shortly after, he sent me a video of the tools plastered in his room. There's a big oxygen tube. But I don't want to ask, later my question will look I feel more stupid.

Today I work without passion. The hour hand shifted like a snail, very slowly. Being a doctor is not easy. No matter what happens in your life. No matter what you

face, in front of the patient, must remain smiling and cheerful.

****

“Hai.”

Two o'clock, I'm checking my phone. The traveler sent a message thirty minutes ago. I frowned, “not that she should be in the operating room?”

“Operation is done?” I'm pounding, why so fast?

“Operation postponed tomorrow morning at nine.”

I who had originally stood against the wall, slowly slumped, sat down. It means I can't breathe with relief.

“Why?”

“Neighborhood.”

This time, my eyes were really hot. What is likely to cause doctors to delay surgery.

“This is a gift.” The traveler sent a photo of his hand connected with an infusion hose.

“Dicated who?” I swear this is a crazy question.

“My dikasih, for you. You know not, M?” ask Saddle.

“Know what?” askaku.

“I want to get well, because I want to enjoy coffee with you. Make a promise you made to me. Even I want to repeat the day where we share an empty bench in the midst of heavy rain.”

I smile. The first spontaneous smile I ever had since I knew him. I kept the photo, but I know, the tension hasn't come to an end.

“Rab. Easily...”