The Skewers House
Livid

At half 6 am, Citra was already on the front porch waiting for Rohmat the vegetable maker. Moments awaited, finally with the sound of a typical motor horn, Rohmat came along with his smile that unfolded.

"For Mbak Citra," Sapa Rohmat was friendly, he got off his bike.

"Bang's Eve," Citra replied short, directly choosing vegetables that her husband might like.

Rohmat waited while watching the buyer. Rohmat shook his head to see how beautiful Citra was. Even just waking up, if ordinary people like himself will be chaotic, smelly and not rusty. But the image is different, the woman remains beautiful, graceful and fragrant.

"Bang?," Citra called out to Rohmat who looked dreamy.

"Ah, yes Ma'am. What was? Wot hepen?," Rohmat asked a little.

"Did you know about the inhabitants of this house first, before me? If it is not wrong to name Retno," Citra asked a little whisper. Rohmat so lazy to hear the question from Citra.

"Yaaahh, you know. It used to be a lot of shopping to me" replied Rohmat.

"You think you know where Retno's mother went?" Citra asked half a whisper.

"Nobody knows Ma'am, someone said to leave this house. But first as I remember, that morning as usual I was also around selling vegetables. I didn't see anyone on the street. If for example Retno's mother left the house, I should also pass by Mbak. I was very early in the morning already around, before the people rame nyari Mbak Retno," Rohmat look cigarak, Citra mangosteen mangosteen.

"Anu Mbak, one day before the disappearance of Mbak Retno I was also around the sale. Ma'am Retno happens to be still shopping for me. At that time.. .emm how to say yes, Ma'am must promise first not to tell who?," Rohmat stared at Citra seriously, asking Citra to promise first.

"Yes, I promise Bang" Citra said.

"At that time Ms. Retno was shopping for me, her face and hands were bruised. Like being beaten by Mbak," said Rohmat lirih.

"What might happen KDRT yes bang?," Citra again asked.

"Not knowing Ma'am. Though before living in this house husband and wife get along well you know," Rohmat chimed.

"That means according to my brother all because of the house called the residents as the house skewer is Bang?," Citra asked again, looking at Rohmat seriously. Rohmat became misbehaved, feeling he had spoken wrongly.

"Yes anu Mbak. If the question depends on belief alone. .he he," Rohmat smiled clumsily.

"When what is your belief?" Citra kept asking.

"Huh? What's the matter, Ma'am," Rohmat asked.

"This house. What do you think?" Imagra waited for Rohmat's answer. Rohmat scratched his non-itchy scratching head.

"Emmm, my mother. If I am, as far as I know, said the old man nih. . .The skewer house was 'ora ilok' Mbak. It's not good to be occupied" Tukas Rohmat half whispered.

"Eheemmm. . .," A deheman sounded from the doorstep of the house. Prambudi was standing there, his head bobbing saw his wife gossiping with the greengrocer.

"You really like to gossip, baby, still early in the morning," Prambudi walked over.

Rohmat observed Prambudi from the tip of the hair to the tip of the big toe. Just this time she saw Citra's husband. It turns out that it is amazing. Body is strong, and dashing. Clean white skin, with jet black hair.

"Good morning Mas" Rohmat greeted Prambudi kindly. Rohmat felt that the husband and wife in front of him was indeed suitable. Like Rama and Sinta, or Arjuna and Sumbadra.

"Good morning Bang," Prambudi smiled.

"I want to cook kale ya Mas," Citra told her husband.

"What aja, as long as you cook," answered Prambudi with a smile at Citra.

"Eh, speaking of gossip what the hell, how fun it is," Prambudi asked, curious about his wife's chat with the vegetable maker.

"That's Mas, I'm asking if a good petshop in this area is where," Citra hastily chimed in. Rohmat only heard the grin.

"Ohh so, . .ayuk enter if you have already bought it. I want you to make coffee," Prambudi asked Citra to quickly return home.

Citra asked Rohmat and immediately paid, then rushed into the house. Rohmat immediately turned on his motorbike and continued peddling his wares. Prambudi looked at Rohmat the vegetable seller from a distance. I don't know why his eyes look so bad.

"Mas Pram, here's the coffee," Citra put the coffee on the kitchen table. Prambudi walked up to Citra, and landed a kiss on her forehead.

"Iihh, kiss kiss. Did you wash your face and brush your teeth?" The image pinched her husband's arm.

"Lha why? Do I stink?" Prambudi blew his breath in the palm of his hand.

"Bauuu," Citra chuckled.

"Enak aja," Prambudi murmured.

Prambudi sat on a chair, and drank a sip of coffee made by his wife who still emit a thin smoke.

"Aahhh, seger bener," said Prambudi, although the taste of Citra-made coffee is actually a little bit bitter.

"Mas, don't forget that your bike will be returned, you know," Citra looked at Prambudi.

"Yeah, I didn't forget" Prambudi said to his wife.

"Lho Mas, Mas Pram's hand why is it?," Citra asked when she saw Prambudi's right arm was bruised and there was a slight wound like a scratch on something.

"Ah, yes. I don't know Cit. Waking up to sleep arrives there is a kayak gini. Maybe not the heck I was a dream mall continued to hit the corner of the bed or something?," Prambudi asked Citra back.

The image approached, looking closely at Prambudi's arm. He remembered Rohmat's story about Retno's bruised body.

"Hey, why? Why even daydream?," Prambudi shook Citra's shoulder slowly.

"Perhaps not Mas, this bruise is because Mas Pram was hurt by subtle creatures at bedtime," Citra whispered to Prambudi, as if there were other people there and Citra was afraid his words were heard.

"Huh? Ha ha ha ha," Prambudi chuckled, his laughter bursting thunderous in this still lonely morning.

"Sttts. . .Manda was still sleeping Maass, don't date her fast," Citra put her index finger in front of her lips.

"Yes, you're missing Cit. Where there are subtle creatures that can make the arm bruise," Prambudi still chuckled, his laughter has not subsided.

"Don't think strangely, '" Prambudi again drank his coffee, when suddenly the HP in his pocket shook violently. A phone came in.

"Who's the morning on the phone?" Citra asked curiously.

"Ah, this is from the parlor," answered Prambudi short.

Prambudi moved from his seat, hurriedly headed for the backyard and picked up the phone. Curious image, watching Prambudi from the kitchen. Her husband looked so serious talking on the phone. Citra also felt the end of this, quite often Prambudi received a call from the orphanage.

Suddenly just smelled the scorched aroma in front of Citra. Oseng oseng kale that he was cooking turned out to be charred. The image forgot to shrink the fire, and he was mostly daydreaming.

"Hadduuuhhh," Citra grumbled, annoyed.

Connect. . .