Qibla Love A
No Rattan, So Root
Harumi walked leisurely, down the residential area of her house. This morning, the girl of Indonesian Japanese blood was intending to jog.
As long as she continues to pursue Arshaka's love, Harumi has never paid any attention to her health and life. After feeling neglected, Harumi will try to rearrange her life.
Trying to forget the man who had never looked at him, let alone look at Shaka was not willing.
"Hahaha!" Harumi exhaled a rough breath.
The white shirt fitting the body, with traning pants that Harumi wears, looks so fit on the proportional body. Harumi's height, which reached 170 centi meters, made the girl look like a model.
Harumi's step swallowed, when she saw some mothers were gnawing Mamang greens. Harumi lowered her head slightly, as a sign of her respect for older people.
"Eh Bu Milah no know, it's his son Mr. RT Neng Salma - he said again deket same eldest child Mother Cia,"
Harumi's steps were even more swallowed and seemed to stop, when she heard the words of one of Mamang Vegetable's mother hunter's mother.
"Loh, instead of Neng Salma it likes the same Mas Aska ya. From the first rumors, he also wears a hijab because of Mas Aska. Then why now even deket same brother?" sahut mother other mother.
Harumi who had already closed both eyes, was getting more and more embedded in place. His hands seem to clench tightly, although already intending to forget Shaka-but it feels like he is not willing.
"The news is that Mas Aska already has a future wife. His son Kiyai the owner of the boarding school, his son what is his grandson? his student at the school. Well maybe because of that Salma ngedeketin his brother, not dapet rattan root was Mas Aska same Mas Shaka same face, so no problem for the Salma. Although the innards will not be the same," said the young woman, who had ombre blonde hair.
"Hush, it can't be!" scold one mother mother.
Harumi's two ears billowed even more, as it could not bear the oriental-faced girl immediately running. Both of her eyes were dewy, but Harumi held her back so as not to cry.
Even as she passed through the residence of Sharief, Harumi did not dare to turn her head. The girl walked quickly, but she knew that near the fence a man was washing the motor.
Harumi did not care, all she thought about right now was - quickly getting home, then crying loudly under the pillow.
Sick?
Harumi squeezed hard the small towel in her hand. His head lowered deeply, making the man who was washing the motor look to squint his forehead.
"Why the Japanese Devil? tumben is not baubles," he murmured slowly.
For some reason, she feels something is lacking - when Harumi doesn't pester her life this late. Is it possible that the girl was tired of chasing after him, looking for his attention?
Not that it's good, so there won't be any more noisy girls who will hurt her eardrums. But for some reason, he felt that something was missing. Even as the girl he liked, slowly began to respond and approached - his heart was at best not as euphoric as it used to be.
Tasteless,
One word he could describe right now. The taste that had been there began to fade, the taste was no longer the same.
Stale, it's expired!
The man rubbed his face agitated, as he saw Harumi's back getting further away from him. Even the flirtatious and seductive face that Harumi used to show, now it has not been seen again for some time.
"Have you given up Rumi?" ask yourself.
RUMI'S GAZE AT MOTHER MOTHER'S SPICE HUNTER MAMANG VEGETABLE
C**IEEE IN CUEKIN, RASAK NO KOE MAS
SEE YOU TOMORROW'S
BABAYYYY MUUUAACCH**
