The Spectacular Soup Search

    As I went about my drug store, putting back items that had been moved elsewhere for one reason or another, I spotted it. Sitting on a shelf near the end of an aisle was a bag. A plastic bag. And in this bag was held what appeared to be a round container of leftovers that one would get from a restaurant. I approached this mysterious bag, glancing around as I did, for the owner must be nearby. Unless, it was left there some hours ago, forgotten by some poor soul who lost their dinner. Upon picking it up though, the container was still quite warm. So, it hadn’t been here for long. When I inspected it further, it became apparent that this bag carried a container of soup and three wee containers of sauces. The soup looked untouched, a dinner ordered to go. I could not leave this perfectly warm meal to be forgotten.
I wanted it for myself. I wanted to take it home and enjoy this free food but where would I store it? I had two hours left of my shift, I’d have to carry it on the bus, walk with it home, and I already had dinner made. It would be a hassle, not only that, I would be potentially robbing someone of their evening sustenance. 
And so, I had a mission. Find the owner of this wonderful-smelling soup. 
    My bravery spiked as I was overwhelmed with this newfound purpose. I began by calling out to the three people in the abandoned-soup-aisle if they had lost their soup. Every one of them shook their heads. I journeyed around that end of the aisle, questioning each customer that passed me, 
“Is this your soup?” 
“Did you lose your soup?”
“Does this soup belong to anyone?”
Nothing. I knew I’d have to branch out further into the store, but I could not leave this area unmonitored. In a mildly desperate attempt, doable only by the adrenaline coursing through me, I loudly passed orders to those in the pharmacy. 
“IF ANYONE COMES TO YOU ABOUT LOST SOUP, SEND THEM OVER TO MY TILL, I HAVE IT THERE!” 
I then ran to the front checkouts and passed along the same orders. I felt as though I were in the Lord of the Rings in that scene where they lit the beacons to call aid to Gondor.
No customer could walk past me without being questioned as to whether or not they misplaced their soup. I circled a good portion of the store before returning to my till, summoned by the ding of my bell. My heart was pounding as I served the small lineup of customers, asking each in turn if they lost their soup. The last two in line stepped up to be served and as I was asking the same question for the fourth time, I noticed one of the pharmacy folk and an older woman come in behind them. 
It couldn’t be. I gasped.
“Is this your soup?!” I asked, gesturing to the bag on my counter. The old woman nodded. 
I don’t exactly remember what I said in response because I tend to ramble unintelligibly when I get overly excited, but I reckon it was something like “ohmygodsimsogladifoundyouijustfoundthissouponashelfandihadnoideawhoitbelongedtoandicantbelieveyouhadntleftandhereyougohaveaswelleveningyouresowelcome!” in a very high pitched enthusiastic voice.
I had succeeded in my mission. I had found the soup’s owner. I solved the mystery like the famous detective that shares my name. I felt like the greatest employee ever and whether or not that’s true, I saved that soup’s life that day and that’s what really matters.