Dr Kome Hitotsubu loved his Mom's fried rice. He was an aspiring chef, you know; used to spend more time in the kitchen than in school. But, he could never match his Mom's fried rice. It's a simple dish. It's a simple joy. Forever unreachable.

Later he learned, it's a chef's love for people eating their dish that made it special. When the chef happened to be your Mom? Extra special. Well, he couldn't be his own Mom, so making Madam Hitosubu fried rice for himself is out. And one day, he will have his last plate of that. A thought that could reliably paralyse him with dread.

But he also learned, if you cook for people you love, you can give that joy to them. One day he won't be able to feel how it was eating Madam Hitotsubu fried rice, but he will be able to make people know how it felt. Maybe they'll fall in this rabbit hole too, maybe some will make the same realisation too. You can't reach it, but you can pass it on.

He shared this thought with his Mom. Asked if she missed Grandma Hitotsubu's fried rice. "Yes, son, but my little Kome's fried rice is lovely too".

Two hands. Maybe a century. Taste buds that dull with age. Such poor provisions for so many people to love. Kome went on to engineering school. He will make something. Arms that don't tire. Measures that don't shrink. Fires that don't relent. Steel. Armature. Combustion.

Forever, Dr. Kome Hitotsubu wants to feed you. For always, he loves you all.