Pasung Tuan Muda's
87. The Loss of the Memory of the Widow
Anissa POV
Night has arrived, the atmosphere of the house feels different since the presence of the mother back and can laugh off all day. Gathering them at home, makes me feel at home, especially if there will be friends invited to exchange ideas. For tonight, I slept with Ziva who had already fallen asleep. However, to cover both the netra, it felt very heavy.
As a result of the eye valve can not be compromised, I raised the body from the top of the couch while stepping down on the floor. Tapakan gontai also bring themselves to immediately arrive at a chair located in the corner of the room. There was already a lamp there as a light, and some pens had surrendered to it and come here.
It has been almost a week I have not written about the contents of the heart, because it is busy with schoolwork that piles up. Moreover, this thought continues to rage on the mother who has no news, when she was in the hospital. After I sat down on the chair, the netra focused on the diary book on the table.
Not to forget, I opened a nightstand containing a pen and a photo of the only relic of Bi Ira. That is, a portrait of how my family once existed and was harmonious. Using my right hand, I tried to grab the photo and search.
Loh, the usual photo is here why doesn't it exist, huh? Where did that photo go? Maybe I, if it falls into the hands of the wrong person, can be a big shame my family later.
After rendezvous, I raised my body while walking to a bag beside the couch. Yes, the school bag is brown, I often take it everywhere compared to others. With a quick style, this hand opens and pours the entire contents of the bag.
However, the result is nil. All that seems there is only a textbook, a notebook, and a pen and ruler. A photograph of the past has not been found. Being so scared, I tried to walk towards a wardrobe where clothes were. With hope, if there will be results from the search from earlier.
When the brain starts to heat up a vision that fills the closet, none of it is visible even the photo. However, there are only a few papers torn into small pieces and scattered.
Holy hooch! Could the photo have been eaten by a mouse? However, my mind says that all of that is impossible.
After making rendezvous, I took some of those tears with a few tears. Apparently, the paper is not a photo of my family's past. Because of the level of thickness of the paper is not the same as the one in the photo.
Together with the pockmark, I set foot toward a table and stared at the tear. By turning the brain, the tear neatly and looking for the bright spot of the missing image. As tears began to fall, I pressed my forehead using both hands.
God ... why is everything like this, anyway. How stupid I am to let the photo disappear just like that, the mind also monologues again.
A gentle touch landed on the back of the body, along with a black shadow that pulled over towards the West about forty-five degrees. With a soft look, I wiped away the tears while looking at who that person was.
“Nissa, why are you still here? It's late at night, are you okay?” ask Ziva.
Since I was unable to answer, my mouth was silenced and it was impossible to tell the truth. However, the interlocutor increasingly rounded both of his neutrals full of probing. To say, it feels like the mouth is very moody, plus this is an AIB and a family matter, there is no way anyone else knows.
“A-me, I lost my favorite thing,” my word stammered.
“What's missing, Nissa?” ask again.
“Not important, really, just a diary.” book As a result, this mouth managed to create a scratch of sin because it had lied to both sides. That is, Lord and Ziva.
“Niss, yuk, we sleep again. There will be an exam tomorrow at school. Lastly, we have to restore energy and mind,” invite him by touching my right hand.
“Ta-but, Ziv, I'm still not sleepy. How about you go to bed first, I'll catch up.”
“Anissa .. don't think about the diary, tomorrow I will buy a better one of yours. Believe!” the interlocutor tries to convince.
Since I didn't want to prolong the debate, I finally returned the two legs to the cot and spread both wings. However, the netra is still looking at the ceiling because it thinks about the photo that suddenly disappeared from the nightstand.
God ... Hopefully, tomorrow I can find that photo and the memories will not be lost from this life. Although every time I stared there was always crying, there was at least proof to the world, that I had a father.
🍁🍁🍁
Morning had arrived, the sound of a rooster was heard from behind the curtains of the house. Breezy wind comes from the ventilation and brings a beautiful panorama on the earth archipelago. Chirping sparrows, and beautiful butterflies also fly there and here.
Quickly, I jumped from the couch to the window of the room, looking straight at the center of the vision, enjoying the beautiful atmosphere with the cool of God's favor. Then, I stared back at the couch, and there was no Ziva sleeping.
“Loh, where did the boy go? Why did she leave my room so quickly, or did she go to school by herself?” After saying that, I ran to the bathroom.
Right in the room, it was empty no one was bathing. Then I ran towards the yard, right on the verge of vision, the red luxury car was still parked neatly without any movement.
Loh, this is Ziva's car. Why aren't they everywhere? Can't tell me if her dad calls and asks, what do I have to answer?
For a few minutes inwardly, I tried to walk across the kitchen. However, there was like chaos because it was very noisy. Curiosity rains down on itself, forcing the feet to step up and find out.
Right in the doorway, three women were frying something with a little singing.
“Ziva, are you here? Since when?” tanyaku.
The opponent stared triumphantly. “Anissa, you did it there. Hey, here help us. This again fried tempeh same Bi Ira and Mama kamu.”
“Honey, what are you doing there? Come, we fry tempeh together,” said the mama.
With tearful steps, I walked towards a room filled with three women who looked very familiar. The mind says that they make me more excited, because they can adapt to a tomboy like Ziva.
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