..Friends..

Miss Rossommon moved to one of the quietest neighbourhoods in Illinois. She was really pleased with the place she had chosen to live. The house was very comfortable for an old lady, who loved inviting her cousins and her friends to have a good time. Despite her age, Miss Rossommon was an active woman, who always went out with friends and took their cousins everywhere she could. She was also a modern lady, who loved going to the cinema and playing computer games as their cousins had taught her.
Miss Rossommon knew nobody in the neighbourhoods, except for Miss Bartlett, who was a lady almost her age. In spite of being very busy, Miss Rossommon made time for Miss Bartlett and invited her to have dinner every other Saturday. They were accustomed to eat delicious dishes and drank a coffee accompanied by cakes that Miss Bartlett prepared.
As opposed to her friend, Miss Bartlett was not full of life at all. In fact, she had neither family nor friends, so she had nothing to do during the day. For that reason, she was green with envy and as time passed she hated Miss Rossommon more and more for making her feel the most miserable person in the world. This matter was driving her crazy. Therefore, she decided that it was time to take action. She had reached the limit to what a person could tolerate. She had such a perfect plan that nobody would put the blame on her.
One Saturday, as she usually did, she went to her friend’s house. They had an appetizing dinner and after that they went to the living-room. When Miss Rossommon appeared with two cups of coffee and was about to take a sit, Miss Bartlett asked:
- “Sorry, dear. Can you go and fetch a glass of water?”
- “Of course! Just wait a second.” - said Miss Rossommon, walking straight to the kitchen.
At that moment, Miss Bartlett took out a small bottle from his bag and poured some drops of a mysterious liquid into Miss Rossommon’s coffee. “Only a few would be enough” – she thought. Some minutes later, Miss Rossommon returned with the glass of water. The two old women drank their coffees and ate some cake, while having a lively chat. Then, it was time to leave and Miss Bartlett said goodbye to her friend and went home.
The following morning, Miss Bartlett got up very early. For some reason, she felt more relaxed than ever in her entirely life. That day, she decided that it would be nice to visit her friend and gave her a little present; after all she had done for her. She stood in front of Miss Rossommon’s door and rang the bell. There was no answer, so she went to the back door, which was always left opened. Determinedly, she walked inside the house as if she knew where Miss Rossommon was.
She found her in the living-room, lying crumpled awkwardly on the floor, one of her legs twisted underneath her. Her face was curious, flat colour, like the inside of a raw potato. Miss Bartlett drew back the curtains. The clock had stopped just before midnight, almost twelve hours ago.
For a moment, she stood there, still holding her little case, in the comfortable, chintzy room and then she dropped down on to her knees, and took the head of Miss Rossommon into her lap and, rocking and rocking, cradling it like a child, Miss Bartlett wept.

Marian