He was clumsy, and I guess that was his greatest charm. He told me, “I break everything I touch,” and boy he spoke the truth. Give him a glass, shattered on the floor. Give him a phone, right in the toilet. He broke everything, but I fixed it. I took the time to glue each shard of glass into place, or took the time to drain the water out the phone. We were a duo. I would tell him, “don’t touch that, you’ll break it,” and he would laugh, but ten seconds later, crack, and we would just sit there laughing until we cried. Man, I must have cried so hard that life took my happiness for pain, because all of a sudden he left, and it was right there I realized it. He touched my heart, and that is something I was never able to fix.