Elk Grove Village, IL–Financial analyst Mo Green, tuning out his boss’s “incessant chatter,” stares off. He snaps his yellow Livestrong wristband (a wristband the office had come to know as part of his identity) against his arm in whimsical childishness as if part of some ritualistic pastime; careless, as his precious wristband becomes pushed past its breaking point, his boss droning on–a final snap results in the rubber tearing and snapping back into the poor schmuck’s face the same moment his heart breaks in misery. He looks around, utterly embarrassed, then the apprehension sets in. “How will they know I live strong? How will they know I’m a good person?” he asks himself, just as his boss stares blankly back at him. Sure enough, the questions begin to infiltrate his once peaceful sanity: “What happened to your wristband, bro? You look completely different without it? You look different–what is it, did you get a haircut? Who the fuck are you?! There’s an intruder in the office! Quick, fire before this asshole fires on us!” At press time, Green was passing between states of babbling nonsensically and sobbing uncontrollably whilst in the fetal position atop the desk in his cubicle.