Marilee, where have you been? “ a woman’s voice staccatos.
“And where is that brief I asked you for an hour ago? ” the blonde homunculus snaps.
“Never mind, got it, so let’s see how much you’ve screwed this up,” the harridan continues, snatching a sheaf of stapled pages from the alien desk.
The fact that she seems, somehow, to have become someone named Marilee adds two more nerves to the three hundred billion that are already fraying badly.
This is a Six Sentence Stories installment. The cue was “fray.”