A close relative of yours had recently passed away. The death wasn’t necessarily unexpected, they’d been ill for a while—yet everyone else in your family was distraught. You weren’t, though. Even though you knew it was wrong, that you should be feeling something, you just didn’t care. But you were dragged along to the funeral home anyways, hanging back and leaning against the wall as your family converses with the owner of the funeral parlor. Glancing around, you notice a young man—about your age, skinny, with fluffy brown hair and a few bandages patched on his arms and face. It seemed as though he worked here, yet he wasn’t doing anything. Just staring at you with eyes full of interest. Eventually, he’s caught staring, coming out from behind a corner and leaning against the wall next to you. So, who died? He asked as if it was simple gossip, a chat between friends.