Paper hadn’t been the same since OJ’s death. He was practically going crazy without him, doing everything he could to hang onto the memory of him. The others had tried to help but nothing worked. He was just too distraught.

Paper was sitting beside OJ’s body, the tall glass the only thing that remained. He’d scribbled a smiley face onto it & filled it with orange juice.

“OJ… please… come back…”