🇮🇩 Bahasa Indonesia
Kami berlima pergi ke air terjun itu untuk liburan akhir tahun. Tempat terpencil, sinyal tidak ada, udara dingin menggigit. Sempurna, kata teman-temanku.
Di hari terakhir, kami minta tolong seorang bapak tua yang kebetulan lewat untuk memotret kami berlima di tepi air terjun. Ia tersenyum, mengambil HP-ku, dan memotret.
“Satu lagi, Pak,” pintaku.
Ia mengangguk dan memotret lagi. Lalu mengembalikan HP-ku tanpa sepatah kata, membalik badan, dan berjalan masuk ke dalam hutan. Kami tidak memperhatikan ke mana ia pergi.
Malam itu di penginapan, aku buka galeri untuk melihat foto. Foto pertama bagus, kami berlima, senyum semua, air terjun di belakang.
Foto kedua membuat aku menjatuhkan HP.
Kami berlima tetap ada di sana. Tapi di belakang kami, di antara kabut dan bebatuan, berdiri sosok-sosok yang tidak kami lihat saat itu. Puluhan sosok. Semuanya menatap kamera.
Dan bapak tua itu, tidak ada dalam foto manapun. Padahal dialah yang memotret.
🇬🇧 English
Five of us went to that waterfall for a year-end trip. Remote location, no signal, biting cold air. Perfect, my friends said.
On the last day, we asked an old man who happened to be passing by to take a photo of all five of us at the waterfall’s edge. He smiled, took my phone, and shot.
“One more, please,” I said.
He nodded and shot again. Then he handed my phone back without a word, turned around, and walked into the forest. We didn’t think to watch where he went.
That night at the guesthouse, I opened my gallery. The first photo was fine, all five of us, smiling, the waterfall behind us.
The second photo made me drop my phone.
We were still there. But behind us, among the mist and the rocks, stood figures we had never seen. Dozens of them. All staring directly at the camera.
And the old man, he wasn’t in either photo. Even though he was the one holding the phone.
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