The Person I'm Next Is Discussing The Terms of Her Divorce, Loudly

I'm next to this woman. She is in her late twenties, mildly overweight, and has on a black sweater and jeans. She has a frazzled, angry look about her, like someone in the middle of a crisis. This makes sense as she is in the middle of a divorce. She is also in the middle of a conversation about her divorce. She is also, inconveniently, in the middle of a coffee shop.
Everyone in said coffee shop can hear her, as she is practically shouting into her phone. Her voice is this shrill wild thing, it has the tone I imagine inquisitors used when ranting about heretics, right before they burned off the soles of someones feet. It makes me feel like I am being yelled at, and his isn't just me feeling this, the other patrons are cringing in something like fear whenever her voice crashes in furious crescendo of anger about who gets the broiler. In fact most of her complaints are about appliances, sprinkled with milder concerns about less important stuff, you know like her kids.
"I don't care who you think my mother bought them for, I'm taking the washer and dryer. She is my mother! So fuck you. Oh, well yeah, every other weekend for visitation seems fine."
I need to stress that that is verbatim. Maybe it is just a coping mechanism. Maybe it is easier to quantify the importance of a pair of giant lifeless hunks of metal than a living breathing child. Maybe she doesn't want to fight about the kids. Maybe she just likes her whites whiter. Maybe she needs to avoid the subject of her kids or she will really break down. On the other hand she is already screaming in the middle of a public place, while sipping a latte, so maybe she has already broke down.
Also lets be honest, her mother would want her to have the washer and dryer.

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