Rain in Baturaden - The Romantic Cerpen
RAIN IN BATURADEN
The work of Astrie Damayanti
Small tweaks froze the way I stepped. Silence was crooked crooked by the night wind. I took refuge under the pink umbrella, pulling my left hand into the pocket of my jacket. Silence is so behind me. Cold orangaden pierced my bones. It's my duty to enjoy my own blanket blanket alias to enjoy the cup of milk I have prepared. But, my stomach groaned out to eat! eat it! expecting something that can boil the stomach, pushing me out to go to the stall. I took out the smartphone from my left pocket checking there was no sms in. All I see is a smartphone wallpaper and a time of 19:45 pm. Tonight it really embraced me that went on its own.
The food shop is not far from my contract like a straight long walk that does not take a little to get there. I just watched black asphalt and counted every footprints I jumped out. Warung seems to be quiet only two buyers seem to order food. Though usually full of buyers up until - until I can not watch where the seller's mother is. I put a pink umbrella on the terrace of the stall. From the glass where the food is over, the plates lined with food are only a little bit left over. There's nothing my stomach wants. Perhaps warm spring rolls fit for tonight. I immediately ordered spring rolls. But it also frowned my stomach, spring rolled up from this afternoon. I saw the spiked chicken not yet tasting the cooking oil swinging her hand on me, as if I had stopped, asking me to order it. I also grant her request. Tired took me to sit in the chair lined up neatly while enjoying the television agenda. Looking forward to my chickens roasting chicken for me.
Rain drops falling over the turret sounded a whimsical twisting toy kid. Someone out there put his heart's red umbrella around my neck. Try setting up correctly. The direction of my eyes was fixed by him who had great attention to me. My smile grows. Maybe what's great about my lips drawing a cheerful curve. My cheeks are warm squeezing. A familiar man in my eyes. Mas Maulana with a short brown light blezzer was a great surprise for a moment. I was fascinated by her. So nice with her white skin. A bit of mustache he let grow, tonight he's so handsome. He pointed at me. Our eyes met each other in a moment. I bow my face. Shut up and hold a smile for her.
I heard the steps that led to me. The nerves in my body tighten as if they were not able to move. I hold my hands, warm flowing. I want to watch it once again but my heart is so beating fast and making me ashamed to bring my dagger. I watched him cross in front of me. Great seats and sit next to me. I can not keep myself in the wrong way.
"Mother, her first message is there?" Asked Mas Maulana in the canteen village that was busy wrapping my lunch menu.
"After Mas Maulana, last night no one bought the mas, .. Mas Maulana same as no more crap in here." Said the mother of the stall that combines two Javanese and Indonesian. I heard that I was brought - just to be embarrassed.
"Mmm ... yes, Mom, I just sent her a chicken."
"Well the Maulana, a little bit?"
I watched Maulana Mas smiling and nodded his head. I'm a great breath. She was so impressed with a man.
"Oh, yes, the receipt of the return of the consumption of the previous study was in me." Said Mas Maulana who invited me to talk. I was shocked. He invited me to talk and this was the proven factor I wanted in my fate. Today's great study brings me closer to Maulana in a collaborative way of consumption.
"Yeah better, thank you." I shivered with shame as my jacket sleeve tucked over my fingers nervous impressed by his words. I paused to close my two lips. Can only smile a little smile. Glancing over Mas Maulana's face. I hope he still looks at the television screen.
"Here you go, fried chicken."
"Hi Mom, thank you."
"Mas Maulana I go home first ya mas?" I said a little smile. Mas Maulana just touched his head with no smile at all. I'm heartbroken. She was so cold to me. In fact, we rarely meet and engage in activities within the same organization. But still he was so stiff to me. And by this organization this is the beginning of my red joke story anchored. Knowing it slowly secretly looking for info about it, quietly looking for it, and now I silently love it. She still did not watch me. I subdue my head, expecting millions of comforts to me.
I took a pink umbrella
The work of Astrie Damayanti
 |
| Rain in Baturaden - The Romantic Cerpen |
The food shop is not far from my contract like a straight long walk that does not take a little to get there. I just watched black asphalt and counted every footprints I jumped out. Warung seems to be quiet only two buyers seem to order food. Though usually full of buyers up until - until I can not watch where the seller's mother is. I put a pink umbrella on the terrace of the stall. From the glass where the food is over, the plates lined with food are only a little bit left over. There's nothing my stomach wants. Perhaps warm spring rolls fit for tonight. I immediately ordered spring rolls. But it also frowned my stomach, spring rolled up from this afternoon. I saw the spiked chicken not yet tasting the cooking oil swinging her hand on me, as if I had stopped, asking me to order it. I also grant her request. Tired took me to sit in the chair lined up neatly while enjoying the television agenda. Looking forward to my chickens roasting chicken for me.
Rain drops falling over the turret sounded a whimsical twisting toy kid. Someone out there put his heart's red umbrella around my neck. Try setting up correctly. The direction of my eyes was fixed by him who had great attention to me. My smile grows. Maybe what's great about my lips drawing a cheerful curve. My cheeks are warm squeezing. A familiar man in my eyes. Mas Maulana with a short brown light blezzer was a great surprise for a moment. I was fascinated by her. So nice with her white skin. A bit of mustache he let grow, tonight he's so handsome. He pointed at me. Our eyes met each other in a moment. I bow my face. Shut up and hold a smile for her.
I heard the steps that led to me. The nerves in my body tighten as if they were not able to move. I hold my hands, warm flowing. I want to watch it once again but my heart is so beating fast and making me ashamed to bring my dagger. I watched him cross in front of me. Great seats and sit next to me. I can not keep myself in the wrong way.
"Mother, her first message is there?" Asked Mas Maulana in the canteen village that was busy wrapping my lunch menu.
"After Mas Maulana, last night no one bought the mas, .. Mas Maulana same as no more crap in here." Said the mother of the stall that combines two Javanese and Indonesian. I heard that I was brought - just to be embarrassed.
"Mmm ... yes, Mom, I just sent her a chicken."
"Well the Maulana, a little bit?"
I watched Maulana Mas smiling and nodded his head. I'm a great breath. She was so impressed with a man.
"Oh, yes, the receipt of the return of the consumption of the previous study was in me." Said Mas Maulana who invited me to talk. I was shocked. He invited me to talk and this was the proven factor I wanted in my fate. Today's great study brings me closer to Maulana in a collaborative way of consumption.
"Yeah better, thank you." I shivered with shame as my jacket sleeve tucked over my fingers nervous impressed by his words. I paused to close my two lips. Can only smile a little smile. Glancing over Mas Maulana's face. I hope he still looks at the television screen.
"Here you go, fried chicken."
"Hi Mom, thank you."
"Mas Maulana I go home first ya mas?" I said a little smile. Mas Maulana just touched his head with no smile at all. I'm heartbroken. She was so cold to me. In fact, we rarely meet and engage in activities within the same organization. But still he was so stiff to me. And by this organization this is the beginning of my red joke story anchored. Knowing it slowly secretly looking for info about it, quietly looking for it, and now I silently love it. She still did not watch me. I subdue my head, expecting millions of comforts to me.
I took a pink umbrella
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