We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but there was one neighbourhood in Calgary where we lived for a long time, nearly four years altogether. There was a tiny convenience store there that was owned by an Asian family. I don't think I ever knew their last name, and I don't remember the name of the store, but it was run mostly by Al, one of the sweetest men I've ever known. He had a nickname for me I won't share, but it was my first nickname and that was pretty cool for a weird 6-year old like me. I bought a bunch of my first comics at his shop. Once when I got locked out of my house at age 10, Al let me sit behind the counter until my mom got off work, and he gave me hot chocolate and joked around with me. Al was a bright spot in my childhood, so I don't think I could have finished Pictures of You without putting him in there somewhere.
People like Al are the best. Sometimes you don't even know their name and they don't even know yours. But that doesn't matter, they don't care and neither do you. All they see is a person who's "alright" and that is good enough. Just willing to be nice or lend a hand. Cheers Al and all those like you.