There was a diner near my house growing up. It was in a strip mall next to one of those hibachi Japanese restaurants that was so popular in the 90s. And there was a pet fish store that I’d often frequent, too, where I’d look at all the fish, and plead with my mother to buy me the most exotic, beautiful one in the aquarium. We were usually on our way to dinner at the diner. My dad didn’t care for it much, so it was usually an event reserved for when he was out of town on business.