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Best Friends: Flash Fiction

I heard a click from the door and opened my eyes.  Quarter after five.

Eleanor slipped into the darkened room.  I pretended to be asleep.

“Are you awake, Kate?” she said in a voice slightly above a stage whisper.  When I didn’t answer, she turned to whoever she’d left at the door, “Let me get my books and put this over by the closet.”

Whoever it was didn’t respond.  It was probably Gwen, who had taken Eleanor home with her for the weekend since I wasn’t feeling well.  Sister Dorothy, the principal and sometimes nurse at our boarding school had declared me “well enough” late last night, but I still felt sleepy.

When Eleanor left, I opened my eyes and turned on the light.  I looked around, to see what she’d brought back with her and spied a garment bag that seemed new.  Like me, Eleanor had been at St. Agnes’ since she was 12, and we’d been roommates the whole time and rarely went home on holidays.  We knew everything about each other.

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