A bowl of soup sat in silence. Smoke still vaporized over the surface of the soup although it was not very noticeable. There were pieces of carrot shaped like flower petals. Only two pieces, no more. In addition, there was a sprinkling of celery leaves cut into small pieces, but no one was tempted by its distinctive aroma.
The soup still hadn't been touched at all. Next to the soup bowl was a glass filled with hot tea that was also left sitting. The silence in the living room was made even stronger by the presence of an old vase placed in the center of the table where the soup and hot tea were. A mini vase with a bluish floral pattern from the 70s, which had several long cracks and synthetic roses that looked shabby and faded.
Not far from the table, a man stood still, facing the window, his eyes straight ahead and gazing into the unknown. He was an old man, with a grayish sweatshirt, and a face that had many stories to tell. His eyes looked sad and fragile. His gaze went through the window, into the past, through the snowfall that brought down ice flowers.
He stood there for almost half an hour, in the dimly lit atmosphere. The old man was far away from the fireplace. He preferred to stand there, watching the ice blossoms brought down by the snow fall slowly, piling up on his yard and fence. Next to his house was his old sedan, which was no longer drivable. It had been sitting there for about four years. It had become a wreck and was now also covered in snow.
Between the table and the old man, right in the corner of the living room, on the pole where a black fedora was hooked, hung a dark yellow women's blazer. It looked like it had been hanging there for a very long time. If you took about two steps back from where the blazer was hung, when you looked up, you would see an A2 frame-sized photograph.
Inside the frame, a couple-husband and wife-stood in a pose holding hands and looking at the camera with a sincere smile. They are dressed in wedding clothes. It looks like they just got married: the man is wearing a black tuxedo while the woman is wearing Ball Grown, with a blooming skirt. Both have their backs to a maroon-colored background.
"...riiiing," a moment later the phone rang, breaking the old man's reverie.
At first the old man tried not to care until the phone on the wall of the hallway leading to the main room of the house rang again and sounded insistent. With steps that looked a little lazy, the old man headed to the place where the phone was located.
"Hello...," the old man said in a questioning tone.
"...Fritz?"
"Is that you, Fritz?"
"...oh my God!"
"...I'm glad to hear that you're still alive."
The voice of a man on the other end of the line sounded persistent and without pause.
"...hey, it's me Burk."
"You remember me?"
The old man was still trying to guess who the person named Burk was. His age had eaten away some of his memory. He was still trying to remember until his forehead creased in the dark hallway of the room.
"...Burk The fast," continued the voice on the other end of the line.
"...remember?"
"...the war on the Hill of Ave Mantiaz?"
"...Burk?" the old man now seemed to be smiling in the dark.
"...yes, that's right. Who else could it be?"
"...Is that you?"
"That's right, my friend Fritz. It's me, Burk. Tom Burkason, ha-ha."
"Hey, are you still living at your old address, Fritz?" asked the man on the other side of the phone.
If you listened carefully, it seemed that the ages of these two people were not far apart.
"...yes, of course," Fritz replied.
"...in Dertkall City?"
"...yes, Dertkall City. My one and only beloved city and hometown," Fritz tried to joke.
Burk was heard laughing and then coughed a little. He seemed to be stroking his own chest on the other side of the phone and took a deep breath.
"...we are old machines, Fritz," it was Burk's turn to try to joke. He seemed to have 'made peace' with age. As well as all the consequences that age and youth brings.
"...You know, I happened to be in your town, Fritz. In Dertkall City," Burk said.
"...oh yeah? Really?" Fritz was curious.
"...What the h*ll else are you doing Burk? You are currently thousands of kilometers away from your home," Fritz said.
Burk laughed again.
"You know, I'll stop by your house, Fritz," Burk said.
"Would your wife mind if I brought a bottle of body warmer to your house," Burk asked. He sounded excited.
Fritz was silent for a moment.
Burk too. Burk waited.
"...My wife is gone, Burk. Five years ago," Fritz sounded cold.
Burk felt guilty. He apologized.
"...hey, it doesn't matter. Don't feel bad. I've been through a long period of mourning too," Fritz felt that he had made things awkward.
"...you know, I just made a delicious and savory soup. It's perfect for a snowy day like this," Fritz wanted to cheer things up.
"...oh yeah? My pleasure, Fritz," Burk accepted his friend's offer.
"Hey, Burk...," Fritz said before hanging up.
"What...?"
"...don't forget to bring a bottle of body warmer like you promised," Fritz said.
"...oh, ha-ha-ha. Of course, I will. Prepare your best table, Fritz," Burk and Fritz hung up on each other.
After a while, there was silence again. The soup and hot tea on Fritz's table had gone cold. Meanwhile, the snow was getting stronger outside. There was no way Burk could have come in those conditions. A blizzard hit the city for almost two weeks afterward.[]
Note: the original manuscript was written in Indonesian, translated into English using DeepL application
