SHE WHO FELL

Najma's tears flowed, her clear droplets melted sadly as the stroke of her legs weakened.

Her heart was still too fragile to be strengthened. When alone, the shadows of that bad event easily haunted her mind.

Very slowly she pedaled the bike. Beautiful scenery and sunny weather was unable to reconcile her heart.

In an unstable mind, she stopped at a meadow accross the road.

Najma got off the bike, stepped slowly into the middle of the meadow.

Arrived in the middle, she closed her eyes. Every time the tears fall, she quickly erased it.

Najma has felt enough crying all the time.

In the middle of the meadow, Najma's body is fully illuminated by the rising sun. The sound of the wind blowing sounded boisterous caressing the soul.

Najma keeps trying so that the tears don't fall again. She must be at peace with her own soul.

Accross the street, a pickup truck passed.

Two young men sat in it, the driver is known to be Putra. And the man sitting next to him is Sayyid.

When the driver is busy singing a sad song, the man sitting next to him was more interested in enjoying the surrounding scenery.

Until the appearance of a young woman far away in the meadow was known to him.

She felt an irregularity in the young woman's behavior. How could she stand alone in the middle of the meadow and exposed to the increasingly unfriendly sunshine.

Sayyid couldn't stop paying attention, stared questioningly as to the purpose of the young woman's presence there.

When the pickup truck went further, the young woman remained standing on the spot.

Half an hour later and the pickup truck driven by Putra passes again on the same road. Sayyid returned to focus on the middle of the meadow. Of course, the young woman had disappeared.

He kept his hope. Sayyid's view rotates in all directions, still hoping to find the young woman.

Sayyid got zero results. Until the pick up truck arrives at the stall, as far as the eye could see the signs of the young woman did not smell at all.

Putra parked the black pickup truck at the corner of the parkir area, then he, Putra and another employee moved the vegetable racks from the pickup truck to a nearby warehouse.

After all successfully moved, Sayyid walks into the stall. He gave thanks, the newly opened stall has been visited by many buyers.

On of them was a young woman in a plain white shirt, with a long turquoise green skirt with small flower motifs and a turquoise green hijab too.

Her eyes were blank, implied a dozen voids.

Sayyid recognized her, recognize her from the gestures and the clothes she's wearing. She was a young woman who stood alone in the middle of the meadow. Right, she is Najma.

Najma is sitting in the most corner of the right chair, facing out of the stall, see the streets that are empty.

Motor vehicles that pass can be counted on the fingers, others are mostly residents and travelers like herself on bicycles.

A few meters from behind her, Asma stepped towards the Najma table, she brought a tray.

Sayyid immediately blocked her, took over the tray from Asma's hand.

Now Sayyid brought the tray, serving food and drink to Najma.

"Excuse me," said Sayyid before placing the order.

Najma looked away, there was no smile on her face. Only a nod of the head that she gave.

Then when the two eyes met, Sayyid's heart was not beating.

There is no polish on her face, looks gloomy and lacks expression.

"Chicken soup and warm tea," continued Sayyid mentioning the food and drinks ordered by Najma. This is his attempt to distract himself in order to relieve nervousness.

Again, Najma just nodded her head. Not a single word had come out of it yet.

"Is there anything else you want to order?."

"There is no," finally some of these words were spoken, weak tone and almost inaudible to Sayyid.

Sayyid stepped back, will return to the ordering table to place the tray.

At that time a girl in her teens suddenly came to meet Najma.

"Miss Najma?," she exclaimed very enthusiastically greeted Najma.

Sayyid's footsteps stopped in place, he looked back, very curious about what was going on.

Najma can not hide her anxiety. She raised her head and shook her head hard.

"Is it true? You are very similar to Najma Khairani," she said incredulously.

"Yes, maybe similar," murmured Najma reassuring the teenage girl.

"Oh, really? Sorry," she said disappointedly, then she walked away.

This incident surprised Sayyid, and this provoked Sayyid's curiosity further.

Sayyid took quick steps to be able to approach the teenage girl.

"Sorry, i have something to ask," said Sayyid when blocking the teenage girl.

"What is wrong?," asked the teenage girl who looked scared by Sayyid's sudden presence.

"Sorry, i overheard your chat with the woman at the far right of the table. You thought she was Najma...?."

"Najma Khairani?."

"Oh, yes Najma Khairani. Who is she?."

"She's a great writer. Sorry when no one is asked, i want to go back to my seat."

"Yes, please."

Then the teenage girl jogged to her table.

"Najma Khairani, a writer?," muttered Sayyid while turning her face towards Najma.

Don't want to waste time, Sayyid moved quickly to a table near the cashier table. He turn on the laptop which is lying there, then type the name Najma Khairani in a search engine coloumn.

As quick as lightning, a row of articles related to that name appears on the laptop screen.

Sayyid reads from the top article. One of them shows the face of the news object.

He matched the face of the young woman sitting at the far right of the table.

Exactly the same, they are exactly the same without any differences.

"So it's true, she's named Najma Khairani, a writer," muttered Sayyid, almost unable to believe the facts he found.

He continues reading the articles below. So serious, until he did not know that the person he was observing had disappeared.

The plate and glass were still on the table, it meant she hadn't been away long.

Sayyid paid attention to all parts of the stall, but the young woman really wasn't there.

Uuh, Sayyid sighed. He realized that he had spent more than half an hour sitting in front of the laptop screen.

Feeling that he had done enough research on Najma, Sayyid turned off the laptop.

He looked up at the large clock in the very center of the stall, the clock has shown past ten.

Sayyid stepped quickly, he rushed to the prayer room stall.

Unexpectedly that's where Najma was found. She is wearing an all white prayer hijab, facing the qibla and will start the prayer movement.

Sayyid is amazed, the more attached his heart to the young woman. He followed, facing the qibla and raised two hands.

Finished doing dhuha pray, Najma didn't immediately leave the stall. On the information from one of the employee, she also wanted to visit the lower floor of the stall.

Long stairs lead Najma to the lower floor, a perfect room for solitude.

There are several soft sofas and wooden cabinets crammed with lots of books.

The the most impressive thing there is the lower floor was directly facing a small river.

The water is clear, there are small light colored fish swimming here and there.

Much different from the upper floors, not many visitors entered the lower floor. Most of them looked relaxed sitting on the sofa, only a few were attracted to the river.

Najma chose to go down to the river.

She descended the short bamboo ladder, with others sitting on the large rocks. Najma stuck her two feet into the shallow riverbeds. The water is very cold.

After Najma, two men entered the lower floor, consists of a young man and a middle aged man. This young man is none other than Sayyid.

"I haven't come here for a long time. Even though today is not the weekend, but your visitors are not bad," said the middle-agged man stepping in front of Sayyid.

"Alhamdulillah, this is also because of the prayers of father, mother, uncle and the whole family," said Sayyid really thankfull.

"Uncle, what do i want to order? Maybe for lunch too."

Then they sat on the sofa and faced the river. Until the focus of Sayyid's attention becomes divided, all because of the Najma there.

A moment ago Najma had climbed the bamboo ladder to enter the room again, her eyes fixed on the collection of books in the wooden cupboard.

She looked from corner to corner. Among the many choices, she took a book with a light blue cover. My behave series, the sentence printed at the top of the book cover, and at the bottom is printed the name Najma Khairani.

It is a novel written by Najma, her first novel was published four years ago.

Her index finger gently touched each page of the novel. Najma insisted on holding back her tears.

Her heart really felt sore, remembered how the drops of sweat and the sacrifices she went through to make the novel a reality.

And Najma was able to control her pain quite well, she had promised herself never to cry again. The tears fell when she only prayed, facing God to tell her life.

Najma returned the book, then took another step to climb the stairs to the top floor.

From above the sofa, she witnessed the whole incident.

After Najma left, Sayyid was involved in a serious but relaxed chat with his uncle. Their chat about the development of their respective businesses.

Entering the middle of the day, Uncle Malik left the stall. He thanked for the welcome given by the nephew.

Sayyid accompanied Uncle Malik to the front of the stall, took it off until the white sedan he was driving left the yard of the stall.

After letting go of Uncle Malik, Sayyid went back into the stall. There was something hanging on her mind, and he wanted to quickly find out the answer.

Sayyid walked towards the lower floor, closer to the front of the bookcase. He observed in detail each book, then found the book he was looking for.

A book with a light blue cover in his hand.

As soon as possible, Sayyid looked for a comfortable seat, open a novel book while paying attention to each page in it, read the printed lines of words.

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