I Don't Want Her Coming In

 Margaret tapped on desk. I looked up.

 

“I don’t want her coming,” she said.

 

“Who?” said B.

 

“Stacy.”

 

Sophie was standing right there.

 

“I don’t want her coming. I don’t want her coming. I don’t want her coming.”

 

That’s a bit harsh. She’s Sophie’s friend.

 

“I don’t care what you say. What business is it of yours anyway?” she said. “Don’t tell me how I say things. You’re loving this.”

 

“I certainly am not,” I said.

 

Later, to smooth things over I began to say in a light tone:

 

“Now, about this Stacy thing … “

 

She turned quickly, “What?” she said. Then walked away.