The Love of the Poet
Episode 11
Eleventh Part
The Love of the Poet
I'm obeying Beib's word to keep the biography project a secret
conceived. But my bad feelings for my friends at the office include Mas
Heri if one day they find out about this writing activity, it makes me so
overburdened. If this book were suddenly published and released
in front of many people and published in various mass media, then all my friends
would know. They will definitely guess what is not.
“Why are you always worried and anxious about your surroundings? You have to have your own privacy, if the tabloid goes down, the company goes out of business and all its employees are in-PHK, whether
will you go down with your friends too? You shouldn't have
always worried and worried,” Mr. Beib suddenly said in a tone
high, after I expressed my anxiety.
“You know, if this biographical project I say at an editorial meeting, then
all matters related to the honorarium must go through the company, even though
that's all you do. You want that?” Mr. Beib looked back at me
sharpest.
Just this time I saw Mr. Beibnmarah. Her face was pure white. I who had been shivering, now more cold. “Serah Mr. Beib deh. No matter how much honor you give
I accept, the important thing is that all friends including Mas Heri should know. If Sir
Beib is not pleased, you can fire me as a journalist at the Children's Tabloid,”
I said with a choked voice. I'm so tired. I also have to think about people
my old and my sister. I want to run away from all this, but I can't. They
my responsibility, especially my brother. Tears slowly floated in the crackers
my eye. But I hid.
“Yes well, all I'm giving up
at you. Later in the editorial meeting, I will tell you what my plans are related to
with the writing of the biography on Mr. Heri and friends. The results of the meeting will
comely. Already do not cry,” said Mr. Beib finally.
I immediately stood up and greeted the handsome young director's hand spontaneously. The tears floating on my cheek quickly erased me. “Thank you Mr. Beib,” I said still with
hoarse voice.
That afternoon there was no personal interview related to the writing of the biography. Before I went back to the office, Mr. Beib looked at me for a moment. He became more quiet. Said, “Before
leave this place, we should have lunch first. Hana's home assistant
my ladder has prepared special dishes for both of us.” The voice of Mr. Beib
sounds soft.
When I got out of his apartment, Mr. Beib drove me to the door. He ordered me to
be careful on the road. Before he came home, he wanted to give me a white envelope, which
I'm sure it contains money for my transportation, but I refuse. It finally
called the driver to take me to the office. I also rejected it.
“Already, don't worry, I'll ask my driver to drop you some
tens of meters from the office to be invisible to your friends, beautiful.” he said.
while holding my shoulders gently accompanied
her smile is charming. I lowered my face with shame. Utterance
and the rubbing of his hand on my shoulder, it makes me uncomfortable. Subsequently, during
this is only the Morning Star who dared to say dear words to me,
that too through cyberspace, not in real.
“Oh Good, Mr. Beib. I'm sorry,”
I said quickly and my heart was pounding. Uf! If only this Mr. Beib
knowing how embarrassed I was, he would surely laugh at my attitude. In my mind, though,
this man must have been very shrewd in playing with the feelings of women.
Hiiii.I was horrified, hurriedly pressed the elevator button, leaving Mr. Beib.
the one who was still standing looked at me without blinking. Congratulations.congratulations.I thought deeply.
hearts.
Arriving at the office I opened WA, three lines of poetry appeared in the messenger. This time there was a heart-pictured emoticon in the last baiter of the poem he sent.
Naina Beautiful
I think this is the best
Because it keeps thorns on the chest
it will hurt itself
And thistles will not be able to accommodate
lamentable
For if fire licks
the pain will get stronger
There was a trembling moan just
put to rest
Peace becomes an eternal mirror
to the universe
If your heart doesn't break
Upset don't need to hurt
Do not be a shield to be tired
in the soul
Because keeping the wound will hurt
by ourselves
Come on, smile
Let the happy aura shine forth
from laughter without obstacles
Look at the birds in the air, they're guarded
universe together
No need to worry, despite the thirst
Dear naina, don't save it
the cloud is too deep
Don't be afraid of the surroundings either
Because where steps go,
there you free
Stars/July/2020
The poem makes me feel good. I became a crybaby for a moment. And everything that happened wasn't as smooth as I thought.But it wasn't long before, in the fifth issue of the Galactic Children's Tabloid, a new rival appeared. Name
the tabloid boy was Bianglala, there was a resemblance to the name Galaxy, equally
nuanced space. Sudden editorial meetings are immediately conducted. Mas Heri who became the leader of the entire media, got a reprimand from Mr. Beib, moreover the fifth issue of this oplag decreased.
I'm anxious. My responsibilities as Editor-in-Chief made my sleep unsettled. It has been imagined how the investor will be angry and accuse among us the editorial members there
who divulges company secrets or sells them to the new Children's Tabloid
that's. My anxiety that was out of bounds finally exposed me to GERD,
my stomach acid is rising, it's all raging in my head. Each time it's finished
eat, I feel like vomiting. I feel like the burden I carry is heavy. Haven't
again a call from my mother who continues to demand to buy a used motorbike so that my father can
drove my sister to a mental hospital and she didn't go up and down. Taste
complete is my suffering.
When the editorial meeting discussed it, I saw Mr. Beib's face cold without
a smile. His attitude is not as usual. He glanced at me. Then
he said, “I want a significant overhaul ranging from rubrication to
authorship techniques. I beg you for every editorial meeting, no one
divulge it, because in this era of globalization, the fall of the mainstream media
like newspapers, tabloids and magazines are very easy. Online media will quickly
grind all conventional media.” His word.
And the pain in my stomach is getting worse. Cold sweat soaks
my face. When I saw my phone and I read WA from Mr. Beib, where he was
asked me to go to his apartment alone this afternoon, my neck went limp. I still am
I remember when he held my shoulder firmly as I walked out of his apartment,
fear is creeping silently. If Ace comes along, I feel safe. But he asked me to come back alone. Cold sweat soaked my face and I felt everything dark. Then I don't remember anything else, the dark is really dark...
(Connected)
