It was Tuesday evening in Smallville. It was likely Tuesday evening in other towns, too, but since he wasn't in those other towns, he'd have to assume.

The rain had stopped momentarily, which was good because he was standing outside on the train platform, paralyzed in thought.

He wanted pho. The trouble was finding a place that sold it. If he were still in Metropolis, it wouldn't be a problem. He would actually have difficulty finding a place that didn't sell it. But here, in Smallville, it was a different story.

He continued to stand and think. The train left the station. Cars left the parking lot. Light left the sky.

He was just about to give up when an image flashed across his brain. It was of a neon sign: a blue bowl with white steam rising into the word "pho" written in red cursive lettering. He grabbed the image before it slipped away and tried to mentally zoom out. A sign. A window. A Vietnamese cafe. A shopping center.

"Yes," he exclaimed, clapping his hands. By sheer coincidence, it began to rain again.

He ran to his car and reached the shopping center in a matter of minutes. (A whole series of events occurred between the car and the shopping center, but they're so boring and inconsequential to the story that they've been tidily compressed into the three-letter conjunction and.)

Everything was as he had seen it in his head, except for the part where the window with the neon sign for pho also had a neon sign for New York-style pizza. He paused for a moment, tried to reconcile the two signs, shook his head and entered the pizzeria noodle house.

"Go ahead and seat yourself," said the Vietnamese waitress, as she motioned vaguely to the room full of empty tables.

He chose one near the flat screen television that hung above the kitchen door. If there's an earthquake, he thought to himself, I'm not standing in that doorway.

He accepted a menu with a thank you, scanned the available pizzas out of curiosity and then found what he had been seeking. He motioned to the waitress and said, "May I have a large meatball pho and hot tea, please?"

While he waited, he opened the packaged chopsticks, carefully folded the wrapper into a holder, drank water from a foam cup and watched the television. Anderson Cooper 360 was on. He was fondly remembering the days of The Mole when the pho arrived.

He grabbed the chopsticks, added some bean sprouts and dug in. The pho tasted exactly how he imagined it would and he was happy.