The Anger
I could tell by his face that he was angry… and it wasn’t the first time…
Farhan, my best friend. We have been together for many years. Farhan is a calm-looking guy. He never let himself bursts his temper. A person whose always in control. Someone who never fails to smile when greeted by people. Someone who is dedicated to the library and an average student. Someone whose favourite colour is typical blue. He is tall and straight. He always looks at his best upon public; neat and smart. His glasses and appearance made him appeared professional towards people. The school community loves him as who he is. Farhan is very calm and manage to bring that cool feeling in someone by just smiling at them. He always have that smile on his face…
But it ended…
These past few days I noticed changes in him. It wasn’t distinctive. It was small changes here and there. But still, it was a negative sign . For instance, he had changed his favourite colour. He used to love blue. But now I haven’t seen anything blue on him anymore. He changed his bag, his pencil box, his stationery into red, orange, yellow and every colour which exist except blue. He’s rarely seen hanging out in the library anymore. Although he still smiles, but it wasn’t the same smile he had. It was different. He frequently day dreams and most, he avoids communication a lot, especially with me. We haven’t spoke for days. I don’t understand what happened to him but I could not bear to bring myself close enough to ask him why.
Until one day, I caught him smoking alone in the park. Smoking!! This wasn’t the friend I knew. This is not Farhan! I decided it was time to put this to end. Without further due, I approached him and scolded him. I asked why had he changed, why hadn’t he speak to me? What was his problems? Why can’t he share them with me? And why did he seemed so angry? Angry of what? But he never replied to any of my questions. He stood there, in silence and gently blew the black smoke, letting it escape between his lips. He never even looked at my face.
Suddenly he took out a picture of us acting silly that he kept in his wallet. The photo was then torn into small pieces. After that, he set the pieces in flames using the lighter he kept in his pocket. His expression was solemn in fury, yet he didn’t voice a word… I was absolutely baffled…
A while later, he began to speak.. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Syah. I deserve this. It was all my fault! It wasn’t you who should’ve been trapped in the building!”
I saw tears running down his cheek… I saw his left hand gripping my name tag ‘Ahmad Syahrul’ which was smothered with thin black dust, along with a pocket knife in his other hand. I tried to stop him but….
He cannot see me…
I could tell by his face that he was angry, but soon I realized it was anger towards himself… and the anger had finally ended right in front of my own eyes. I couldn’t speak a word.. all I could do was cry…
