Roseanne finished her morning jog, had a refreshing shower, and stepped onto her balcony to admire her collection of succulents, joined by a new addition, a pot of pink succulents standing out among the green. Gently poking it with her index finger, she admired the soft, tender plant, feeling a wave of happiness.
Her buzzing phone on the table snapped her out of her reverie.
Seeing "Cliff" flash on the screen, she answered with curiosity. "Cliff? What's up? Calling at this hour, is everything okay?"
Cliff greeted, "Hey, Roseanne, how've you been?"
"Good, you?"
It was his chance!
Cliff straightened up. "I'm... not doing great."
Roseanne frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Probably too many late nights and drinks. My stomach's a wreck. I can't really eat anything, but I've been seriously craving your homemade blueberry almond oatmeal. Any chance..." Cliff didn't mention Murray wanted it, opting for a roundabout plea.
Though she'd met Cliff through Murray, Roseanne had formed her bond with Cliff independently of Murray over the years. He reached out, especially when he was feeling unwell.
After checking her watch, Roseanne replied, "Sure. I’ll head out and grab some groceries. Swing by around noon?"
"Ah! Thanks, Roseanne! You're the best! Love you. I'll call you later."
Roseanne chuckled.
…
By noon, Cliff followed the directions to a quaint neighborhood near Kingswell University, navigating several winding alleys before finally parking near the designated spot.
Walking down the shaded lane, he found the building. Remembering her mention of the seventh floor and the lack of an elevator, he gulped.
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