Looking down at the pale, lifeless form below, he thought of how fleeting and meaningless life was. It was just a tireless loop of birth and death, a collection of mental as well as tangible pictures of moments that, though cherished, were inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. At the end of the day all people really did was eat, poop and die, hoping that someone they left behind would mourn their passing.
As he gave his body one last look before he went to wherever it is lost souls go, one stray thought lingered, gnawing at the empty space where his brain was supposed to be.
no one will mourn me.
He turned the thought over and over in his hollow head, going through the different permutations of meaning that single phrase could have. In the end he settled on a simple, earth shattering conclusion. He had failed in the one task all humans were seemingly given as rent for existing - to have someone who would love them enough to mourn them. And he was, in a strange way, alright with that.