Roger enjoyed his quiet Sunday mornings. He worked hard all week and Sunday was his day to relax and not think about strategies or deadlines. His favorite place to relax is the small café in the theatre district. It was never too busy, played a nice mix of classical or jazz music and had a very buxom brunette who worked behind the counter, and traded polite smiles.

Roger comes in at opening time with a couple of Sunday newspapers and reads every page. He drinks cup after cup of coffee and occasionally treats himself to a pastry. It's important to him to commandeer the table in the far right corner, as it's not too close to the door, the counter or the toilets. Strategically it's the table that ensures the least amount of contact with any other member of the public.

It was eleven thirty when he'd finished reading the headlines and political articles, and he was about to move onto the arts and entertainment sections with all the magazines and television listings. He didn't watch much television but it was still nice to look out for a decent documentary.

He'd just sat down with his third mocha and a scone when he heard the bell ring over the front door announcing someone's arrival. The noise continued with a rustling of many plastic bags and the heavy breathed conversation of a very tall woman speaking loudly into her mobile phone. She stumbled into the café, off balance from her uneven load. She scanned the room and then chose a table near Roger.

Roger sighed and flicked his paper up to obstruct his view of the woman, but he could still hear her.

“I'm having a nice morning alone for a change and I'm sitting down for a coffee so don't preach to me about the kids missing me. I'm with them all week, you only have to play with them for a couple hours.” she scowled into her phone, while unwinding bag handles that had been strung along her long arm up to her elbows. “Do you think they're missing me because they're having such a miserable time with you? Well then why? You know what – I don't care,” finally free of the bags she stood with one hand on her hip, other elbow extended out wide so another customer had to dodge around her or be hit, “ You deal with it. They're your kids too, so try to remember what fun was like; I know it's a stretch." she said, listening for a bit. "I'm having a coffee, a sit down and one more hour of peace.  Am I understood? Well, good. Bye then.” then she banged her mobile on the table. She sat and took a few moments to compose herself.

A corner of Roger's paper flopped over and afforded him a view of the woman. She was still making noise and muttering to her shopping, which didn't seem to want to stand up on their own, but fall over into the walkway. She turned them left, turned them right, leaned them against the base of the table and then with a curse she gave the bags the finger, kicked them and let them fall under her seat where she then used them as a footstool. Roger tried to flick the paper to stand up but the corner kept falling back down. He heard her order a black coffee and a cinnamon bun. It certainly wouldn't take her an hour to finish that.

“Excuse me?” he heard her say. “Uhm, excuse me, are you finished with this newspaper?”

Roger looked up to see who she was talking to now, and flinched when he found her towering  in front of him. “What?” he asked.

“Are you finished with this newspaper, I'd like to read it.”

“Sorry, it's my paper. I'll be taking it with me.” he replied.

“Oh sorry, I though they were the café's. Sorry to bother you.” and she walked back to her table and began typing away on her phone.

Roger returned to his reading and tried to resume his calm, Sunday morning. A few more people came into the café, and Roger realized the lunchtime rush was starting. He was well entrenched at his table and wouldn't have to suffer interruption from others.

“Excuse me, again.” He heard her voice and his shoulders dropped. He looked up from his paper,

“Yes?”

“Would you mind watching my bags while I go use the toilet?” she asked, trying to get up from her chair and collecting one of her bags, but leaving the rest.

“I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable doing that.” he answered and went back to his paper.

“I'm not going to be long, I just need a pee."

"That's irrelevant and none of my business."

"I don't want to drag all of this into the toilet with me and I don't want to lose my table – so do me a favour and watch my stuff for me, please?” she explained quickly scanning the room for the way to the toilets.

“I'm not comfortable being made responsible for your belongings. You should take them with you or hold it until you get home.”

“Are you serious? You won't watch my bags for me, not even for three minutes?" She put her hands on her hips and scowled down at him. "Are you leaving soon?”

“No,” he answered and returned his gaze to the paper in front of him.

“Then what's the problem, it's unlikely anyone will try to steal something but just in case, if anyone does touch my bags, just shout at them or something. You seem able to speak at least.” Her hands spun about in the air accenting every word she spoke, and then rested on her hips again.

“I'm not watching your bags for you.” Roger answered, from behind the newspaper.

“Well, I think you are. I've run the gauntlet of shops trying to get shoes, and ballet skirts and assorted crap for everyone else, on my day off. I want to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee and I can't do that when my bladder is about to burst. You've already said you're not leaving so don't be a prat, just watch the bags.”

“Take the bags with you and stop begging strangers to be your security guard. It's your responsibility to watch your bags, not mine.” he said with clipped assuredness and managed to flick his paper perfectly upright, and blocked her from his view.

“I'm taking this one with me, it has all my money and cards in it – just watch the rest of them...” she continued but he interrupted her, tired of this tedious conversation, “I will not watch your bags. It is completely inappropriate to ask me to do so. To instill guilt for not wanting to guard your belongings is highly manipulative and uncouth. You asked me and I declined. Please desist from speaking to me any further!”

“Yes, you're right,” she said slowly, “But I'm not dragging all these bags into the cubicle with me. I am going for a pee whether you 'guard my belongings' or not. If you let someone steal my bags then it's on your conscious.” she said, and stormed off towards the Ladies' room.

Roger, dropped his paper to the table and stared at her as she walked away. He couldn't believe she'd gone and expected him to look after her bags. Well, he decided, he wasn't going to look after her bags – let them be stolen. He didn't care.

He went to sip from his coffee but it had gone cold. Damn her! He was enjoying his quiet Sunday and who was she to come in and disrupt it all. Loud mouthed, rude and stupid. She deserves to have her bag stolen. She deserves to be taught a lesson in self-reliance and not trust strangers to guard her things. Hell, what makes her think he wouldn't steal them?

Well now, there was thought. And no sooner had it popped into his head then he was getting up from his table, rolling up all his papers and walked over to her collection of shopping and stuffed them all into the biggest bag. He gathered up the bags, and was ready to walk out, but he stopped.

He looked around and saw the pretty brunette employee, “Excuse me, would you be able to keep these bags behind the counter for a few minutes. The owner is in the toilets.”

“Oh, uhm,” she thought for a moment, “Sure.”

“Thank you very much. See you next weekend!” and he handed the bags to her over the counter, thanked her and then left the shop as fast as he could.