ONE LOVE, TWO CONTINENTS
( Not 18 + ) Don't Nysel

“You don't need to think about it. There must be a resemblance to the character of his father or mother that may fall to him. Just mess with your mind!" a little high tone mommy talking.

“Don't be right Mother's guess, surely you play a taste with Dita," added Mommy.

“Ah, that's just the feeling of Mother. The true feeling of Shahrel where perhaps Mother knew,"Syahrel defended himself a little.

“Remember son, we are not equal with them.”

“Means mother?” tukas Syahrel.

“You watch our daily lives, our food. If you put your heart on Dita, what would you like to feed?” mother laughed a little, then choked with her cough.

“I love him eat wood glue. Let it eat once a week, it opens its mouth again, hahaha," Syahrel said.

“You can avoid it," replied the mother with a smile.

“Mendiang Father is the one who gave Syahrel this kind of nature.”

Mother was silent, reminiscing about the past. Seeing Syahrel's smile made her miss the figure of her late husband.

“Sorry Mother, so make Mommy sad,"Shahrel closer to your knees.

“What a son. Mother remembered the late father. When you see you joking is similar to the late father.”

“Yes is mom, Syahrel is her son.”.

“Best Mother, almost eleven o'clock at night. Tomorrow you have to do activities again, do not think of the late father, already calm him there," added Syahrel.

“Have you eaten, son? Do not leave your stomach empty, the night wind is very dangerous for the body," asked Mommy to put clothes in the closet.

“Syahrel is not yet hungry Mother.”

Mother was wearing a blanket, Syahrel was still silent and leaning against the wall of the room. Why is Dita's name always spoken all day? Is Syahrel in love? Or is it just a momentary feeling? His eyes stared blankly, the Indonesian-German dictionary was taken.

Syahrel loved memorizing his vocabulary, probably because his late father was good at speaking the language of origin of Nazi idealism.

In his mind and heart lead to the puzzle of the figure of the tall girl. His wits play, his ambition blinded his status.

Syahrel has always argued that love knows no degrees. It is not status or degree that is important to him.

Now all that is in Syahrel's mind is how he can meet Dita tomorrow morning. Tonight, he let his imagination imagine the girl. Forget a moment of German memorization and the world wrote it, impatiently waiting for the sunrise tomorrow.

He forced his eyes to shut. The clockwork moment changed minutes, passed by almost an hour.

Syahrel tried to close his eyes but could not sleep. Syahrel's habit of sleeping above two o'clock in the morning eventually became opium for him.

Unlike the previous nights, this time the moon crept slowly as if to mock him. The heart wanted the morning to come quickly.  The normal nature of an adult male falls to him.

Slowly his eyes closed.....

No wind no rain, that afternoon Dita suddenly appeared at the Syahrel stall in casual clothes; t-shirts and hot pants. Makes the eyes of a normal man gape and jakun up and down.

“Astaghfirollahal’adzim," little heart Syahrel said many times.

Want to refuse but there in front of the eyes, said sustenance but sin. Cold sweat pours out of the pores, the heart beats erratically, the blood flows so fast, the heart races. Terrific!

“There's a fashion magazine?” dita's voice shocked Syahrel.

Syahrel was silent for a moment.

“A, ada,"taken by a magazine that is neatly displayed on the kiosk table.

“How much is it?" ask the girl

“Thirty-five thousand," replied Syahrel for sure.

“Fifteen thousand,"answerShahrel brief.

“Nusantara Sketch Newspaper?”

“Two thousand five hundred.”

“I take three, so how many?”

“Fifty two thousand five hundred.”

Dita gave a sheet of fifty thousand, Syahrel took his money back from his pants pocket, his fingers not yet lifted from his pocket.

“Return take," seloroh Dita.

“Oh yes, whose name are you?”ask Dita before moving from the stall.

“Syahrel.”

“There's a number I can call?”

“There, (021) 58179919,"so fast Syahrel said it.

“Yes already, if I want to order a newspaper let me call ya?”

“Beres..”.

Syahrel happy not kepalang, shoots loved ulam arrive. The following days became a wait for Syahrel, hoping Dita would come back or call him.

One or two days did not see Dita at the kiosk. Syahrel comforted himself, cramming hundreds of possibilities into his mind.

“Maybe he's busy in college," lamented his heart.

“Or is there another rush?”that sentence is repeated.

Every now and then Shahrel noticed the path Dita was walking through when she first stopped at the stall. Repeat continues, hoping the figure of Dita comes back.

Not long ago, his old mobile phone rang, it was difficult Syahrel picked up the phone because the *keypad-*nya was hidden so it must be plugged with the tip of the ballpoint or other.

“Halo, who is this?”Syahrel started the conversation.

The hope appeared again, the voice of the girl in the kupingya, right Dita's voice. Apparently Dita did not order a newspaper or magazine, but asked Syahrel to accompany Dita to buy makeup and clothes to go to campus because the clothes worn daily had faded color.

Later in the afternoon they promised to meet at a newsstand and hoped it would be a beautiful day and that love blossomed in both hearts. Dita looks like a college student in general who is not conservative with the latest style and fashion.

This time Dita wore a long t-shirt combined with press jeans and high heels, stunningly beautiful. Another case with Syahrel, his clothes are simple, far from simple. But Dita is not uncomfortable with the appearance of Syahrel as it is.

Arriving at a mall that is quite familiar in the South Jakarta area, the place Dita goes to is a fashion store and shoe store. After shopping for his needs, Dita led Syahrel to a luxurious cafe. Syahrel was invited to dinner to a place he had never been.

Two candles lit on a table full of carvings of temple and temple ornaments. The walls of the cafe are clad in the feel of a waterfall, white round lights hang over the waterfall. Romantic atmosphere at the time. Their eyes also exchanged glances, heartbeats rhyming the sign of love. With a little shame, Dita's hand approached and reached Syahrel's.

The sofa they were sitting on was ignored because Dita chose to sit side by side with Syahrel. Syahrel began to sweat, never before had he sat this close to the opposite sex. Dita's fragrant body makes Syahrel's heart beat erratically.

As their bodies docked, the grip of the hand became tighter and tighter. Dita's lips slowly approached and continued to try to get closer. The lips were so bright red that they approached Syahrel's lips. The instincts of a normal man Syahrel appear.

Without learning more Syahrel lips also close to Dita's lips. The distance between the two lips is limited to one centimeter, the atmosphere increasingly romantic and warm. Suddenly the voice of the old woman broke the atmosphere, the voice was familiar, like the voice of the mother calling out to Shahrel. Not only that, the touch of a rough hand was felt on the shoulders of Syahrel.

“Rel, Rail, Build Rail, it's in at dawn!" mother's voice suddenly spread the beautiful dream of Syahrel.

Syahrel also woke up while saying Istighfar and wake up prayer. Too absorbed apparently with his dream.

Subhanallah, what a beautiful dream that God gave. If this really happened, is this what it feels like?