Sunday Coffee

I meet Em for a cup of coffee between her work shifts. Despite the bright sunlight, I am surprised by how cold the air is. I wait on a bench for her, freezing in the breeze.
We go for a coffee at a cafe down George Street - one I've not been in before. At the back of the cafe (we sit out in a pleasing and ramshackle 'conservatory' area) there are a group of women who I imagine might look like they're from mexico. I try to pretend we are in mexico, but even inside it is still too cold.
A large late middle-aged woman sits on the table next to us. She is swears to herself, and when two children run past she mutters under her breath about 'damn kids'. An unpleasant woman. I feel like telling her to fuck off, but today has been a bad enough day as it is, without having an argument with this foul creature who sits next to us.