The Perfect Friend. Flash Fiction.

She put it into the teapot, then added hot water. The tea should be strong enough. She placed the pot onto the tray, then added six mugs. One of which was already filled with herbal tea. She didn’t like the regular kind. Hers was strawberry. She put a jar of honey onto the tray, sugar wouldn’t do at all, it wasn’t good for you. She didn’t want to serve her guests sub-par materials. She picked up the tray and carried it into the sitting room.

“Oh, Angie, about time, I’m dying for a cup of tea.”

Angie placed the tray down onto the table and started to pour the tea, once that was done she passed out the cups and transferred the milk, honey and biscuits onto the table. Everyone started to add their own flavours to the tea, then she placed her own cup at her empty spot. She set the tray down on a small table and sat down. “Where were we?”
“Clare was telling us about how she thinks Tom is off fucking his secretary. She just popped to the toilet while we were waiting.”

“did I miss much?”

“No, not at all.”
“Good.”
Angie sipped at her tea, the idle chatter started again until Clare returned from the bathroom. Clare sat and took a deep drink from her tea, then she began to talk again. Angie tuned out, she already knew Tom was cheating on Clare, but he wasn’t fucking his secretary, he was fucking his trainer, or rather, his trainer was fucking him. Angie took a sip of her tea to hide her smile. The others reassured her it wasn’t the case, that she’d know if he was cheating. He didn’t hide his phone, there was never any strange smells on his shirt. Clare kept insisting she just had “a strong feeling.” Angie took another sip of her tea, waiting for them to finish. It was getting annoying now. Clare was the first one to go, no surprise there, she was gulping the tea. Soon the others followed. By the time she was finished eating a few biscuits, they were all to out of it to really know what was happening. Angie took another sip of her tea. She looked at the bodies of her friends. They would wake up in an hour or two. Groggy and sore, but they wouldn’t know she had done it. She was sure of that. She had considered just poisoning them, but that would create far too many problems, it wouldn’t be as easy to explain either.

She pushed Clare off her seat, then posed the bodies of the others. Angie sat down again, wondering why she had given them so much. While she waited for them to come around a little bit she finished off her tea, then she read a little. This was the boring part.

Diane stirred first and that was her que. Angie stood from the table and went to the front door, it was just off the side of the tea room, she opened it and lay down on the ground. Cold air rushed over her as wind blew into the house. After a few minutes, the rest of them were starting to wake up, Angie kept herself still and calm, then, she too started to move. She wouldn’t feel nearly as crappy as the others, but that was the price that they had to pay.

They sat at the table, drinking water. An ambulance had come and gone. Everyone thought it was carbon monoxide poisoning. Just as she wanted. The story was simple. Everyone started to feel groggy and sick, then they started to pass out. Angie, seeing everyone passing out, stood and went to the door, to try and get help. Opening the door had allowed fresh air into the house and so Angie had saved them. She tried to be modest about it all, but she still had a healthy glow. It might even make the papers.

After everyone went home, Angie cleaned up the house. She felt perfectly fine, better than fine in fact. She was a hero. Of course Bobby wouldn’t see it that way, but he wouldn’t tell anyone. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but she had deniability. He couldn’t prove anything. Besides, not everything was her fault. It was just occasionally, when things got a little too boring. Like with Clare, soon she would find out about her husband and then Angie would be there to swoop in and comfort her, be the good friend. She wouldn’t do anything to kick it off, she knew it was going to happen eventually, she just had to wait, but sometimes waiting became boring. Everyone knew she was a great friend, and she intended to keep that reputation.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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