A cappucino in the sun

Sitting in the sun, reading the paper at a café table, I became aware of a heated phone discussion from a man sitting alone at the table in front of me.

“I can’t do it on Thursday! No, I can’t! What about Friday, 3pm? 4pm? 5?”

He was furiously thumbing his way through his diary, which I could see was full of scribbled notes. ‘He must be a busy man,’ I thought to myself, a typical hands-free set user.

“Tell them it’s cancelled! Cancelled!”

He was middle aged, lanky, wearing a suit and tie. Still, the diatribe continued. Some people looked at him strangely as they walked by.

“I’ve had just about enough of this!” He continued.

I picked myself up to leave, folding my paper under my arm.

“Who do you think I am?” He shouted, still furiously turning the pages of his diary.

I walked past him and looked round to see his face. No wires. No hands-free set. No phone.

Just a man speaking... to himself.

I left him there, debating alone in the warm summer air.