The Psychic Coffeeshop Exchange

Monday Night.
Disheveled Man at downtown coffeeshop counter on borrowed phone [his voice growing louder and louder until everyone else has fallen silent, staring at their coffee cups, pretending not to listen] :“Well, you just gotta help me out, here. Help me out! I mean, I’m at the end of my rope, here. I’m at the end of my rope, here! I just don’t have anyone else to call on!”
[Hangs up, storms out of shop.]

Tuesday afternoon.
Middle-aged Woman sitting at coffeeshop across town [her voice also steadily increasing in volume]: “I don’t know where you think I’m gonna get this kind of money. [Pause.] No. Every time, it’s more. And I don’t have the money. I just don’t have it!”
[Hangs up, slams phone on table.]