“I live a penthouse with my best friend, Lizzy Longson. She’s an avid pianist, always practicing.”
Sheila nodded, absorbing everything. I couldn’t tell how this was at all relevant or odd.
“Then, recently, she became ill. I told her if she kept working so much she’d get worse, but she didn’t listen. She became worse, but refused to leave to see a doctor. Since money’s a bit tight I called an aquantance of mine who’s a med student at the university.
“Well, Eric Lang, the med student, came to see Lizzy. He told her it was a sinus infection, but he’d come back to make sure she was doing okay. He had this look about him that he liked Lizzy. Lizzy did, too.”
“Hold on,” Sheila interrupted. “Do you recall her early symptoms?”
“She didn’t show any for a while, then she became more tired, complained of chills, & began skipping meals. Wasn’t hungry, she claimed.”
My roommate nodded, pressing her fingers together. She leaned back, her sharp edge seemingly vanished. “So sorry to interrupt. Continue, Ms. Hawking.”

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