The Prince's Chess Piece
The Master Bawel
The aroma of petricor emanates, as the light of the arunika incarnates through the window grille. Netra Kinanthi stared nanar outward. He saw a beautiful red rose. Beetles also fly in between.
Agra ... Kinanthi screeched inwardly, then grabbed the left middle chest. There's invisible nelangsa starting to moan there.
His memory floated on his two elderly parents. They sustain their lives from the results of farm labor, and sometimes also scavenging used items for the sake of the kitchen to keep it steaming.
Seeing his family in dire straits, Kinanthi pits fate to the city. And now he's stranded helpless in Mr. Nabastala's house because of his carelessness.
“Non Kinan!” herman from a distance.
Hearing the cry, Kinanthi wiped the clear hairs on his cheeks, trying his hardest to always be firm. Hiding sorrow closely, so that no one sees it.
“Iya, Sir.”
He walked towards the origin of the sound, where Mr. Herman was standing. Next to the family room door. He also saw the master was sitting very authoritatively in the room with a focused view on the black functional tablet.
“Non! Sir ask to make coffee.”
“Copy? Loh, wasn't that already, sir?”
“See!”
Herman was the guide, on the floor of the coffee cup lying with spilled contents scattered around him. Fortunately, the fate of the glass is not as restless as its contents, it is still intact even though it may be a little fragile.
“Waduh, how can you?”
Mr. Herman just shook his head in response.
Kinanthi immediately took a rag to clean up the spilled coffee marks. His hands work. The eagle eyes of the master glanced at Kinanthi while crouching. The t-shirt he was wearing, unable to hide his cleavage looks hanging beautifully. Makes the master repeatedly swallow saliva. To raise the manhood that is hiding in the nest room.
“Kinan.”
Kinanthi's face looked up towards the master, “Iya, Mr.” As a smile brimmed from her thin little lips.
“Lain times, the narration is correct.”
“Good, Mr.”
Kinanthi passed to immediately make a new coffee. But he did have time to think. As he remembered the coffee glass was placed in the middle of the table, how easy it could fall. Or, don't-don't ....
“Ah, ndak can be prejudiced badly, Kinan.” His head was held up while monologuing. His hands began to skillfully mix the coffee mixture into a special drink with a taste that has a character in each steeping is different.
The results of the concoction are not inferior to reliable baristas in coffee shops. She is a persistent woman and also unyielding. Easily adapt and learn quickly from the surrounding circumstances.
“Master, here's the coffee.” Kinanthi offers a cup of macchiato coffee.
It took him three days to learn how to make macchiato coffee. Starting from giving a little European touch to his coffee, adding cream cheese that is foamy, replacing white sugar with palm sugar. All he did with full of feelings, although at first many times failed. Indeed, when referring from the meaning of its own name is with dotted stains, macchiato in the simple sense is coffee with a little “noda” milk.
“Mm. Thank you.”
Kinanthi passed away leaving the Master and Herman to continue his other work. There were many things he had to do in that luxurious house. It is easy to say yes .. Now, all homework is the responsibility of one.
••••
Exactly at 10:30. The heat of the sun began to sting the skin, raindrops last night no longer leave coolness. Mango leaves next to the fallen yard have dried up again to the morning sun, ready to float following the wind and then take it across.
Dertt .. derttt ... derttt.
Gawai Kinanthi gave the Lord a tremble. Immediately stop mopping activities on the floor. He reached into the pocket of casual pants he was wearing, after wiping his wet hands first.
‘Sang Prince’, Kinanthi's eyes stared at the lit screen. He immediately shifted the answer button.
“Iya, hello.”
“Siput, where the hell, long time very answer.” The voice across the far nun instantly bluffed.
“Sorry, Mr.”
“Listen, yes! At noon, there will be guests coming. Get all your work done immediately. Understand?”
“Good, Sir,” replied Kinanthi politely.
“Don't forget to eat first, later pass out again.”
“Iya, Tu—”
Tut .. tutt.
The phone connection was cut off unilaterally, without waiting for Kinanthi to finish his answer.
“Heh, rich man base.” Kinanthi exhaled a rough breath, hoping to relieve the tension he was facing. The spirit! Everything will be fine. The scream in the mind.
The deft hand was back dancing with the middle mop handle held by him. Her tiny body was so light following the movement of the mop handle towards.
Not even five minutes after the master called, a step rang out from the direction of the door. Kinanthi had to sharpen his hearing. Who is coming? Kinanthi purposely placed the handle of the peng carelessly, about to check.
Be late. He only realized the presence of Mr. Herman and the Master was walking hastily through the side door. Pimply. Mr. Nabastala must be upstairs. While the stairs have just been dipel and have not dried properly, if passed can-can ....
“Master, aw—” Unfinished Kinanthi yelling.
Brugh.
The Master has slipped and fallen. While Mr. Herman who is able to master the situation is just limp and immediately reach the stairs for the handle.
“Sorry, Sir. You okay?”
Soon Kinanthi hunted down the fallen Lord Nabastala. Trying to help him wake up. Kinanthi grimaced as her master grimaced in pain. Looks like his leg sprained.
THE PLAQUE!
“Work is becus,” snapped the Master with wrath.
Kinanthi nodded while holding her hot cheek.
“Looks like you have to go to the hospital,” proposed Mr. Herman.
“No need.”
Mr. Nabastala walked limping on Mr. Herman to the second floor where his room was. Kinanthi continued to look at their backs that were getting away with feelings of guilt.
Soon he finished his mopping job. Then rushed to the master's room to see the circumstances and intended to treat the wound on his master's leg.
At the door, Kinanthi was precisely pacing around in confusion. Enter must be scolded, not enter he feels more guilty. His whole courage was gathered.
Tok .. tok.
It turned out that Kinanthi's guts were braver. The door, not long after the door opened. Mr. Herman stood with his disheveled face. “Come in,” command.
Mr. Nabastala was sitting on the couch, with a grim face wearing nothing to look at. His hand continued to hold the sprained part of his leg.
“I'm really sorry, Mr.”
Kinanthi wholeheartedly apologized. Then crouched down, trying to check the injured master's leg.
“Cih. Can apologizing change things? Huh?”
Kinanthi did not dare to answer, she shook her head. Very understanding if the master was angry, whatever he said would not change the situation. Kinanthi's eyes focused on several bruises on the legs. His hands deftly opened the P3K box that he brought from downstairs earlier.
“No need,” shouted the master while throwing the magazine that was on the table.
Kinanthi again grimaced, feeling the pain on her face that was the target of the magazine throw.
“Don't be a smartass, you know what about injuries? Swipe alone ndak becus.”
Getting all the treatment of his master that was getting rough made Kinanthi unable to stem his tears. He was crying without a sound. His eyes looked at the master. That meaning hurts.
“Wei! The look in your eyes is too wild, don't you know?”
“Sorry, Sir. Kinan understood, in this house the Master is a king. And the king is always right. Sorry, too. If Kinan doesn't have manners. Again sorry, Mr.”
With impiety Kinanthi apologized, he bowed his body for a long time. After that walk backwards, and out of the master's room.
Mr. Herman who had witnessed the feud earlier, was moved by Kinanthi's actions. Hurriedly he wiped away the corner of his eyes that had begun to condense before being seen by Mr. Nabastala.
“Snail basics. Umpah catapulted his work, also melt his brain,” blemish the master while grimacing. Maybe hold his sore leg.
Mr. Herman did not respond, just stood staring, looking at his master from a distance. Fear of bad luck; diomeli like Kinanthi.
“Pak Herman, really long time the doctor came?”
It's true, he immediately got a ration of scolding.
“Pak Herman,” snapped Mr. Nabastala rough. “When is the doctor coming?”
“Maybe in a moment, Sir. Sir, you also know for yourself, the daytime break hours of the road are always crowded with vehicles.”
“Reason. Call again, gih!”
“Oh.”
Gentle hand Herman pressed the phone button to make the call. And immediately end it.
“Doctor said, he's stuck in traffic, Mr.”
“Cih. No other reason what? Call again, sayin, my feet are healed so no need to come.”
“But, Tuan—”
“You heard, didn't?”
Heh. His name is the king. Which words cannot be disputed at all. No matter if it's right or wrong.
“Again .... Call the client who's coming, tell him I'm not feeling well. And also, call Kinanthi.”
“There's more, Mister?”
“You bought food for our lunch, so Kinanthi don't have to cook.”
“Already, Sir?”
“Ehm.”
Mr. Herman went outside the room. Fulfilling the request of the master, with a face bent full of gloom. Signs on his mind are turbulent various resistance that is not expressed.
Slowly reached the door handle, Mr. Herman was about to close it. His hand stopped, when the master called out to him.
“Pak ...”
“Iya, Mr.”
“The door does not need to be closed.”
“Oh.”
When money is in power, humans become the most trivial things that are enslaved to circumstances.
