Malam itu, dalam imajiku. Ia menanggalkan kecupan lembut di pipi kiriku dan meninggalkan rona merah setelahnya. Jantungku berdegup aneh, tak beraturan. Lututku lemas. Aku malu, namun masih terpejam.
Every secret of a writer's soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works. - Virginia Woolf.
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