I heard the noise of the raging wind scrapping harshly on the think darkish helmet, given by Ibu Sri, dusty and all out of the storage cupboard of hers.
’It’s the seven-o’clock flight,’ I replied, Komang has just got home f rom a long ride from Denpasar and due to the insufficient time and the usage of a car couldn’t get me run to the check-in counter at the airport on-time, I asked of his motorcycle ride.
’Why didnt you buy a flight for tomorrow?’ He responded, he must be tired from whatever he’d done throughout the day but then, being the awsomeness that he is, he sighed and said,’Alright, I’ll be waiting at home.’
He raced thru the cars, fought his way against another slow riders, left me sat nervously behind him with one hand held tight on the back of the motorbike yet knew we would be there alright, or at least, would just be late for ten mins or something.
I had no much time to put the toothbrush and another imprortant items, a clean V-neck tee shirt, an underwear and the Grey sweater would be okay.
The flight is delayed until five minutes before eight in the evening so I can sit back for a while.
