Roseanne finished her morning jog, had a refreshing shower, and stepped onto her balcony to admire her collection of sulents, joined by a new addition, a pot of pink sulents standing out among the green. Gently poking it with her index finger, she admired the soft, tender nt, feeling a wave of happiness.


    Her buzzing phone on the table snapped her out of her reverie.


    Seeing "Cliff" sh 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."All text ? N?velD(r)a''ma.Org.


    Roseanne frowned. "What''s wrong?"


    "Probably too manyte 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 youter."


    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 shadedne, he found the building. Remembering her mention of the seventh floor and theck of an elevator, he gulped.


    Minutester, panting and sweating as if he''d lost half his life in the effort, Cliff stood at her door.


    Roseanne let him in, immediately handing him a ss of water. "Are you okay? Was it that bad?"


    Catching his breath, Cliff waved off the concern. "Just a bit out of shape, Roseanne. How did you end up in such a secluded spot?"


    He meant to say "run-down" but thought better of it at thest moment.


    "It''s peaceful, and everything''s within reach." She handed him the freshly made blueberry almond oatmeal. "Eat it while it''s hot. I''ve packed some apple pies, too. Be careful not to spill."


    The aroma hit Cliff, and he understood the craving. He nodded, "Thanks, Roseanne. I owe you dinner."


    As he left, he hesitated, turning back, "Roseanne, you..."


    Before he could finish, Roseanne checked her phone, "It''s almost one. I need to head out. I''ll walk you out."


    His unspoken words swallowed, Cliff nodded, "Okay."


    Roseanne watched his sports car disappear before letting her smile fade. She could guess what Cliff wanted to say but no longer wanted to hear it.


    ...


    Rushing to the hospital, Cliff set the container down on the small table in front of Murray.


    "This should satisfy."


    Murray skeptically opened the lid, but after one taste, his expression softened. Despite the harsh words and actions, was there still a soft spot?


    He took another bite, eyeing the door. "Where is that woman?"


    "Who?" Cliff was clueless.


    "The one who


    made this. That


    woman has decided to return?" Murray raised an eyebrow, scoffing, "What does she take my home-for? A hotel? Shees and goes as she pleases?"