I left highway 99 and sped towards Billith, Rosie’s Diner the specific target in mind.
With the sun at zenith and my nerves at nadir I slowly dragged my feet across the cobbled yard towards my single source of sustenance for the day.
‘The soup … of the day?’ the proprietor and part time chef said hesitantly, looking bewildered at me. ‘We no longer serve … soup … at this establishment.’ She wiped her beaded forehead and continued, ‘There was a surprise inspection by the Food Stuff and General Health Authority this morning. Apparently they had received a firm complaint from a customer, a boy had given a stern lecture in the composition of soups. Enough quantity of some special kind of crumbs … can’t remember what the inspector called them… ailsome, balesome … apparently needs to be present to call a soup a soup. The boy had even brought all 25 volumes of The Primordial Soup – How to Satisfy the God of the Stomach, as evidence!’
I looked across the empty booths, empty tables, empty chairs. I was the single soul in Rosie’s Diner. A single starving soul that craved soup.
‘So when will you get these “crumbs” delivered?’ I said with as patient a tone I could muster, my knees beginning to weaken.
‘Not for another week I’m afraid. But the inspector left this red emergency push button for… well… emergencies… Is this an emergency?’
‘YES!!!!! … sorry … I need to sit down. Please push press and proceed …. I just need soup right now …’ I sat and my head started spinning. What I saw next could not have been real, and I blame my interpretation of these next events on my lack of soup.
As Rosie slowly placed the red emergency push button on the counter a silence fell across the aisle; the light seemed to dim and a tangible presence could be felt. We looked at each other for what seemed an eternity before I nodded to her to go ahead. The red emergency push button did not light up. Nor did it make any sound. No words were spoken. Nothing needed to be said, we both understood the meaning of scams. But as Rosie made ready to hurl the red emergency push button out the open front door a cloud of smoke swiftly rose between us. Dissipated it left a wide-eyed boy standing in its stead.
‘HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII,’ the boy said. ‘Don’t throw that away! It can be reused you know, like hugs!’
As I drove away from Rosie’s Diner later that afternoon I felt a joy as innocent as that radiating from a newborn child. That joy lasted for days, and I often think back to that specific junction in my life when I first met Jay – a boy of eleven, the source of Innocence and Jaysome.

This is @randomlyjay fan fiction.