The Preferred Priest Candidate
Meet Rif'an
Three episodes have passed, Nana is still driving on her motorcycle maticnya. Tracing the busy pantura highway will overtake each other vehicles in front of him.
At last...
Nana was again excited even though she only saw the writing "Welcome to the City of Guardians" in the gate that He had just passed. Yes, although it is still a long distance that He must travel to reach home, but for Nana this is his home, his hometown. This is also the feeling he always felt on the way home from Lampung.
For many years he lived on the opposite island, without knowing the ins and outs of his own city. There Nana was easily remembered by people by just mentioning the name of his hometown.
After a long drive, Nana arrived at a traffic light fork that leads to her village road.
Emmm, to the Great Mosque was waiting for Asyar time all rest. As he thought, then stopped the speed of the motor because the lights were on red. Followed by other vehicles that are beside and behind it.
The light turned green. Nana drove back, straight through the road to her house.
Bruhaakkk. Nana tries to avoid a collision in front of her. Brruaaakkk. Plattakk... Peltakkk...
In a few moments Nana just felt the silence around her. Not remembering what just happened to him. I why this????
" Deck... deck...."
" Sir.. mbak..."
The voices of the people called out to him.
Who yeah? Nana opened her eyes.
" Let's take it to the side first, the others will take care of the motor as well as the scattered items." Again came the man who directed a crowd of people.
I why ? Sir, where am I going to take you ? Nana's unspoken voice. When his body was lifted by several people.
***
On the other side of the road, street vendors lined up neatly peddling their merchandise. Hearing the loud clashing sound forced their pair of eyes to each search for the source of the sound.
" There was an accident! " Excite some people in the sea.
Buying and selling activities in some locations have stopped, because the owner reflexes run towards the location of the accident.
The customer in one of the Ice shops looked at what was happening.
" What's up, Mom ?" Ask one of the people walking away from the crowd. Location of the accident.
" It was in the third there was an accident, Mas! She is beautiful, she said."
" Denger there are beautiful girls, single souls immediately churned."
" Haha. Not that time either !"
" Well, if you want to see." Rif'an tried to spend the full tofu bunting in his mouth.
" Yes, you've been waiting here. I want to find a beautiful girl first, who knows who I can meet. Hehe"
Hid. Children today ! The sugar cane ice seller shook his head at Ilman's words. All that is known is a joke.
Arriving at the location, which is meant to have an accident. Ilman helped pick up a bottle and a helmet that had slipped off Nana's head. Then approached Nana who was being helped to sit on the sidewalk of the road.
" It's a drink first, Ma'am." Ilman offered Nana's bottle of water that he had collected.
" Oh..." Nana shed tears. She felt an unbearable pain around her right ankle.
" What, Mbak Nana?" Everyone's view points to the Rif'an.
Who yeah? Nana nodded. But not able to think more than that, because the pain worsened in his legs.
" Does he know this fat guy?" Asked the middle-aged man who was propping up Nana's body.
" Do you know her mom, Rif?" Ask Ilman at the same time.
" Injih, Sir. "
" Will you bring a car?"
" Take the motorcycle."
" Sir is a car to carry the victim already there." Said one approaching the crowd.
" Us. The fat told me to leave! Time to be transported with the dying !" Answer the middle-aged man. " Please stop the tubby yes, no anterin to the hospital with my rickshaw."
" Is this the helmet?" Ask Ilman.
" The bike didn't put it in front of the park, Mas. It's the key." Someone who also helped Nana by taking care of her motorcycle, handed the key to Rif'an.
" Man, take care of it." Throw two motorcycle keys at Ilman. One belongs to Nana and the other belongs to Rif'an.
Hadeh ! Which is brought to me ! Fate... Complain Ilman.
