The Nurse's Choice of Man

Painting an island on a pillow

Leisurely, Dimas leaned his body against the stacked array of pillows. His facial expression looks flat. It links the fingers and makes them a pillow to support the head.

For a few moments silence stretched inside the spacious room with the luxurious interior of the building. Both of them dissolve in their minds.

Staring at the ceiling of the room, Dimas looked pondering. The man finally realized he was so dependent on Amara. Admit it or not, in fact Dimas can not deny the existence of Amara has an important role for his life. This nurse has done much for her recovery efforts.

All this time, he had never met a nurse who had an extra patient heart like Amara faced her madness. She was so tough as a woman. Even though he had spent so many tears, countless rejections and torments in succession.

Remembering this made Dimas feel very evil. He did not necessarily vent all forms of disappointment and anger at Amara. It's not like she's always treated badly. But he also cannot control himself when his crazy side rises and unknowingly treats Amara inhumanely.

Sighing deeply, the man wearing white pajamas looked at the nurse who was focusing on massaging him. "Mara," her call broke the silence.

Amara stopped her activities and turned to Dimas. "Yes, Mas Dimas."

"Until when am I gonna be like this?"

"Huh?" Amara stared at Dimas as if she did not understand the meaning of the man's question.

Dimas sighed softly and then looked back at the ceiling of the room like he was staring. "When should I endure this pain? How long will I be locked up in this room?"

"Until Mas Dimas is healed. Until Mas Dimas doesn't need medicine and me anymore." Amara answered firmly and with confidence. Then go back to continuing the massage.

Dimas was silent for a moment, then looked at Amara. "Are you tired?"

"Huh?"

How did he know that my hands had been sorely massaging him? inner Amara while grinningly staring at Dimas.

"Are you tired of fussing, am I?"

Amara was again stupefied. "Oh that?" The girl smiled wryly because she had mistaken it. He then continued to massage her while saying, "No, Mas. I'm doing this job with pleasure, really."

Dimas screeches. "Belcome from where? I must, kali." Dimas then got up from the bed and sat staring at Amara. "Gue's sure, you'll give up before I recover."

"Whatever Mas Dimas wants to say. I'm sure I'll keep trying."

"Just do. Try as hard as you can." Dimas lay down again and looked at Amara with his evil grin despite being stared down.

While massaging, Amara seemed to think. A moment later he looked at Dimas with an enthusiastic face. "Did Mas Dimas have a hobby?" Not wanting to argue, Amara chose to shift the conversation to another topic.

Dimas thinned his lips after hearing a question from Amara. His eyes sparkled with pleasure as he remembered the thing he liked.

"Do you believe I'm good at shooting and archery?" tanya Dimas was so excited. Even his body bounces awake so much his spirit.

But a second later his cheerful smile faded and changed with a face of despair. Hand muscles that do not function properly make it lose its tempestuous spirit to leave only a trace of sadness that is plastered there.

Dimas' expression did not escape Amara's observation. The girl saw Dimas' hands suddenly clenched, then shook by itself.

Amara was able to make sure the man was in despair to fade the series on his face. This can indeed be fatal to the healing process Dimas which lately has shown development.

"Cool what!" jolt Dimas while raising his chin. "Lo know, is my condition now? My brain's nerves haven't been functioning properly to program the muscles! Even my emotions are not under control. My hand-" Dimas showed his trembling hand with a frustrated face. "Lo look at my hand!"

Amara nodded in understanding while looking at that hand.

"Gue can't do anything with his rotten hands like this. And if I need to shoot, the bullet will surely deviate from the shot. I hate my useless self, Amara. I hate!"

Amara immediately got up and grabbed the hand of Dimas who was about to squeeze his head.again Dimas lost control and intended to hurt himself. The man's face was flushed out in anger. His eyes glazed over holding a tormented mind.

"Mas! Stop lamenting yourself like that!" Amara screamed with her eyes glaring sharply, even shaking Dimas' shoulders as if to resuscitate.

"Mas Dimas is in the process of healing, now! Patience and trust! There must be a way for us to try."

"But my hand, Amara ...!" dimas was full of sadness. Even his eyes started getting wet.

"Don't use your hands directly for shooting or archery practice! Mas Dimas' body hasn't been able to do that. We can start with something light as a start" Amara said earnestly.

"What light? You're not asking me to make non-jok people, are you?"

"Astaghfirullah, Mas!" amara was upset while distancing herself. "Relieve!"

"Lo don't see me sober! You think I fainted!"

"That's not what I mean, Mom."

"Then?"

"Easy! No need to talk about it anymore!" concluded Amara was upset while back sitting on the edge of the bed.

For a moment they looked at each other before then they both threw their faces away. A moment later Amara looked back at Dimas with eyes that sparkled happily.

"How about we start by painting?" proposals later.

Grimacing his forehead, Dimas chuckled at Amara's suggestion. "Lo ngaco, yeah! I can't paint Amara, my hands never hold canvas."

"In my first try, painting is not bad. Painting is good for training Mas's right brain to control emotions. To relax the muscles of the hands as well. How's it?" ask while glancing his eyes. The girl looked enthusiastic waiting for Dimas' reply.

Thinking for a moment, Dimas then nodded steadily. "Okay, I can try. Canvas isn't too heavy either."

"Good." Amara nodded and gave her thumb. "That's dong, that's spirit."

"But I don't want to paint in my room."

"Bright. Where do you want it?"

"Where, cake. Not in the room. Yes, I was told to paint the island on a pillow" said Dimas annoyed as he folded his hands in front of his chest.

Seriate