This is the chair where she-who-must-be-snuck-around used to like to work sometimes when She was stuck. But of course now it’s mine. My chair. All mine, and She had to find another place to unstick herself.
So She went off to try to concentrate on writing in the other room, on the couch. That is also mine, but I’ll overlook this infraction for the moment. Because she has to be humored when it comes to this writing business.
I don’t see what’s so difficult about it, to tell the truth.
I’ll tell her you stopped by.