You know, the thing that really sticks is when a long‑time character, someone who’s been in the same costume for decades, suddenly vanishes in a single issue—like when that stoic hero who’s always been a quiet pillar of strength meets an abrupt, unexpected death. The shock factor is amplified because you’ve stored that page for years, dusted it off, read it a dozen times, and then you see that final panel. The emotional weight is not just the loss itself, but the fact that you’re watching a page you’ve kept pristine, the ink still fresh, the colors still vibrant, and now it’s the last one to exist. It feels like the preservation itself is part of the tragedy, because that moment is literally the end of a physical, tangible piece of history. That’s the moment that makes me pause and feel the pulse of the paper, and it’s why some deaths hit harder than others.