What happens next?

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I wave to Abi the Nigerian. He's hurrying up the road wearing a camel coat, his collar turned up against the rain. He's holding a black umbrella, a mobile phone pressed to one ear. A blue shopping bag stuffed with groceries shows he has been to the village shop. I decide to go there myself. The shop is not far away. There is a small cafe in one corner serving breakfast. I sit on a flimsy plastic chair beside a grubby table. Making up a story provides distraction from the poor quality food they serve. The Cappuccino is lukewarm. The bacon sandwich drenched in brown sauce which drips onto my coat. There is no napkin. The assistant has forgotten to provide one. The story continues to form in my head. It begins: An African man hurries along, a mobile phone pressed to one ear, carrying a black umbrella.