It was quiet. I have been here, millions of times as a kid, running down these halls, talking to all of the staff, as if they were my best friends. This place was my second home. I wanted to live here, forever, never wanted to leave. 

When I was very small, my father would take me here while everyone was setting up the aquarium. My favorite part was sitting in that big open dark room, waiting in suspense for the workers to turn on the lights, and when they did it was amazing. Every time, they turned on the tank lights, making the room glow a pretty blue, then the ceiling lights.

It was always disappointing when the bright white lights were turned on, the magical glow of the tank was deluded.

One of my favorite memories from my childhood was when I was looking at one of the big tanks, the ones with the huge orange fish, and the lights all went off, except the glow from the tanks, everyone was worried, gossiping, scared, talking to staff asking what was happening, but I just sat there, looking up at the magical creature that was in front of me.

I always missed that feeling. Even now, as I stand in these familiar rooms, these familiar people, it is never the same as back then, and I miss it dearly.