There's a couple sitting a few feet away from me. As I walked towards the cafe a little while before, he was sitting alone. Sunglasses on, black hair and white shirt, watching me as I approached. Five minutes later, as I left the cafe with my drink to sit outside, there was his girl; a whispy blonde thing who fiddles with her gold bangles and always has a part of her body touching him, whether hand, foot, leg. He's on the phone right now, the hand holding the phone to his ear with it's elbow in the table top, blocking her out. She sits with one foot on his chair and watches him.
The ladies sitting at the table next to them look like old friends. They sit, cigarettes in between fingers, sunglasses hiding their eyes. The blonde talks - gesticulates - leaning forward while the brown in the red tartan coat leans back in her chair and comments. Her hair is dyed and wavy, her skin tanned. She seems almost bored. A power woman. When they go, they leave an ash tray of cigarette ends.
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