Humans lives were dull. They were full to the brim with false hope and desire, adding a bit of greed at the side.
He was glad he wasn't human. Glad he wasn't a pathetic excuse for space. Glad he didn't have to live their tedious lifestyles.
This one was no different. As he stared at its lifeless corpse, slumped in the middle of the room with a single gunshot wound which entered and left through its temples. A single trail of blood splattered on the light brown floorboards. Light shone through the open window, casting shadows on the body's arms and legs and in the corners of the room. A single table, which served or had served as a desk at least took up the centre of the large and practically empty room.
Finally, after making up his mind that he never wanted to be human, he stepped over the dead imbicile and studied the desk.
As the man who just happened to be dead, the desk was exactly the same on the scale of boringness. He nodded to himself in agreement. There was nothing of any importance here. Nothing. After flicking over the human's head with the point of his sharp Italian shoes, he left without a word. Leaving the body alone, dead in the centre of the office.
