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Killed by Silent Series

“Click! Rrrt..!”
I open the wooden old door. Step in to the empty living room.  
Sure, no answer.
As usually does, Mom must be rush in to the market after teaching time. Mom will selling hot coffee and instant noddles  the market  and go back home after azan magrib sounded.
I take seat and put my walking stick aside.
It’s not easy when you must depend on something that’s not belong to your body.
I lay down a while on the couch to take a breath. Gosh!
How can I get relaxed? When I still see that picture! 
Why  Mom loves to hang that big picture on our living room?
It is a picture of a man in a steady uniform. Young. Handsome. But I have never met him.
“He is your father,” Mom told me.
“Really? But why I never see him?”
Mom never answered.
But I finally found the answer when my auntie came to pay us a visit last week. She flew  to Jakarta from Surabaya for a bussiness trip.
“He left you when you’re born,” Auntie explained.
“But, why Auntie?”
Auntie didn’t say a thing, just stared at my impaired legs.

To be continued 
written by
Aira Kimberly