"I'm a complicated human, easy to get angry and easy to miss. Still want to love me?"

***

That Monday, why do so many hate it, huh? Sometimes, I wonder. In fact, this Monday did not do anything wrong. But, there are so many people who hate him.

Is it because there is a ceremony on Monday? Or, on Monday there is a headache-inducing math and physics lesson? Or ... because on Monday, you've been left behind by someone you like?

Basic, you guys.

I'm Milka, one of the people on earth who likes Monday. Why? Monday is beautiful, to me. Like on Monday about three years ago.

Come on, let's reminisce about the past.

That day I was late for school. It was the first time I was late. You know the taste? Tense!

But, I don't know, I'm grateful because that day I stayed up late watching movies on my laptop, so I had to wake up late the next day. Otherwise, maybe I'll never meet him, he.

"Milka, Milka! Why are you late?" asked Mr. Jhon, the Counseling Guidance teacher at my school, SMA PANCASILA.

"After staying up late, sir," I answered honestly. After all, why lie? Add to sin.

"What are you doing up late?"

"Watching, sir," I said, my lips widened, displaying a row of pure white teeth that I always brushed four times a day.

Why four? Two, less. Three? Odd. So, just four.

"After this you watched the toilet floor while cleaning it," said Mr. Jhon as he walked over to the other late students.

I sighed. Indeed, it is a consequence of being late for the ceremony at my school. Clean super dirty and smelly loo. Surprisingly, even though it is cleaned every day, the smell and dirt never seem to go away.

"Do you understand the punishment?" Asked Mr. Jhon, he stood in front of the line of students who were late.

"Understood, sir," we said in unison.

"Please carry out your punishment. Remember, you are being watched, don't try to escape," threatened Mr. Jhon, then left.

The line broke up, some went straight to the scene to carry out their punishment. Some ran to the canteen, and some walked to the security post to get their bags, I was one of them.

When my hand reached for a plain black canvas bag, another hand rested on the back of my hand. Shocked, I reflexively pulled my hand away.

Looks like the person who just touched my hand was just as shocked. We both turned around, until we accidentally met our eyes. Geez, those alluring brown eyes!

"Th-that, my bag," I said pointing at the bag earlier.

"Sorry?" She replied, a little confused. I'm more confused.

Then, I took the black object. Then stare at him for a long time. This thing does look like mine, but, I'm sure that my bag contains an army green feather pendant.

"It's mine," said the boy who was standing in front of me. His face is foreign, I'll bet he's a new kid.

"This looks like mine," I muttered softly. Then, my brain seemed to remember something.

Geez, today I'm wearing a pink bag!

"Here," the boy forcibly grabbed my bag-his bag from my grasp, "read," he ordered while showing a small embroidery on the back of the bag.

"Thomas Xiovero Abraham," I spelled reading the embroidered script.

"That means you have this bag?" he asked, looking at me.

I grin. "What was the name Thomas X-X, huh?"

"The point is this is mine," said the boy as he put his bag on.

I looked at him with a crooked face. It was enough to make him look back at me with one eyebrow raised. "What? Want to be mine too?"

"You two want to talk, is it punishable?" Mr. Jhon suddenly came over to me.

I immediately looked for my bag and left there. Towards the teacher's toilet which is located next to the teacher's room. Surprisingly, everywhere the teacher's toilet must be the cleanest because only teachers use it.

However, at my school the teacher's toilet was the dirtiest. I don't know, maybe a lot of naughty students also use that sacred toilet.

"Uh, feather girl!" My shoulder seemed to be patted. I turned around, and the boy appeared again.

"I?"

"Of course."

"Why, you call me a girl with feathers, anyway?" I asked, confused.

"Yes, I don't know whose name you are. You also seem to like feathers, you see, hair ties, bag hangers, watches to earrings, there are feathers."

I lowered my head, looked at the plume hanging from my bag, held my earring and glanced at my watch. Right, all feathers. Jeez.

"Don't call me feathers, my name is Milka!" I explained. Indeed, who wants to be called feathers?

"Milka? Now you make me want to drink milk, want to eat candy too," he said with a laugh. Geez, why is he laughing so good, anyway?

"Whatever, ah." I put down the original bag, then started picking up utensils for cleaning the toilet. Even though I'm disgusted, maybe I'll just flush it a little, apply some floor odor and then run away.

"I rarely see beautiful girls doing work like this," said Thomas.

Wait a minute, what girl did you say?

"Has your mother never been like this?" I asked without turning my head.

"No, no. There are a lot of servants in my house, just tell them to." Oh ... the rich kid.

"You're late too, aren't you? Here, help me to finish quickly!"

"No, you are alone. Learning for the future, it's a boy's job to make money."

"Heh, I aduin to Mr Jhon, later!" My threat.

"Aduin, if you dare," he replied, defiantly. Indeed, why should I be afraid?

"Yes, be brave. Why am I afraid of you."

"Just so you know," Thomas smiled, "dealing with me, never ends well."

And I know, what he said that morning in front of the toilet, was not just nonsense.

* BBAI *

So, how about part 1? I'm trying to make this story a little bit of a fiction, to make it more real, so that you also know how it feels to be Milka :

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