I tagged along after dad to the airport to pick up Hadi. He was the last man standing in USIM (lol) after all his friends left home for the upcoming Eidul Fitr.
He was due at 2330 hour, so we arrived ourselves approximately 2320.
While waiting for His Excellency to arrive, I leaned on the cold wall and renamed nearly all the contacts in my handphone.
Hmm. I was never patient enough to wait. Kept glancing around for anything worthwhile to stare at, apart from the opposite wall.
That's when I saw him.
Shorter than me, hair slightly rusty, clad in a pristine white jubah. The one and only Ilham Shah, class monitor of 4 Ikhlas 2008.
The young boy with a fetish for knocking his teachers off with Backstreet Boys' Inconsolable.
"Hey, Ilham!" I called out as the young boy passed in front of me. Okay, so he didn't hear me.
"Ilham!"
He glanced around. His slightly chubby face lit up in a smile.
"Assalamualaikum, Ilham." I held my hand out in a short salute, still practically leaning on the wall. What are you, Atiqah? Some spineless sotong?
"Waalaikumussalam. Bila balik?"
"Lebih kurang minggu lepas."
"Oh. Kitorang baru je balik." True enough, I saw his pride of siblings some distance away.
"Oh."
"Kenapa tak balas mesej?"
"Eh?" I pulled out my handphone. "Tak de dapat pun."
He opened his mouth to continue, but I picked up what he meant. "Mesej Friendster ke? Dah balas lama dah, budak."
He smirked. "Saya bukak Friendster sebulan sekali."
"Bertuah."
We smiled and he ran off towards the entrance.
His Excellency Hadi finally showed up. He remarked something insensitive, to which I rewarded him with a full punch to his right arm for such keen and remarkable observation.
I won't be punching him for quite a while now. It's now or never.
Hoho. I'm such an adorable sister.
He was due at 2330 hour, so we arrived ourselves approximately 2320.
While waiting for His Excellency to arrive, I leaned on the cold wall and renamed nearly all the contacts in my handphone.
Hmm. I was never patient enough to wait. Kept glancing around for anything worthwhile to stare at, apart from the opposite wall.
That's when I saw him.
Shorter than me, hair slightly rusty, clad in a pristine white jubah. The one and only Ilham Shah, class monitor of 4 Ikhlas 2008.
The young boy with a fetish for knocking his teachers off with Backstreet Boys' Inconsolable.
"Hey, Ilham!" I called out as the young boy passed in front of me. Okay, so he didn't hear me.
"Ilham!"
He glanced around. His slightly chubby face lit up in a smile.
"Assalamualaikum, Ilham." I held my hand out in a short salute, still practically leaning on the wall. What are you, Atiqah? Some spineless sotong?
"Waalaikumussalam. Bila balik?"
"Lebih kurang minggu lepas."
"Oh. Kitorang baru je balik." True enough, I saw his pride of siblings some distance away.
"Oh."
"Kenapa tak balas mesej?"
"Eh?" I pulled out my handphone. "Tak de dapat pun."
He opened his mouth to continue, but I picked up what he meant. "Mesej Friendster ke? Dah balas lama dah, budak."
He smirked. "Saya bukak Friendster sebulan sekali."
"Bertuah."
We smiled and he ran off towards the entrance.
His Excellency Hadi finally showed up. He remarked something insensitive, to which I rewarded him with a full punch to his right arm for such keen and remarkable observation.
I won't be punching him for quite a while now. It's now or never.
Hoho. I'm such an adorable sister.
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