The young brunette was found lying on the table, face down in his own blood. He was a generic man, in a generic fast food restaurant, leading a generic job. Nothing seemed odd about it. Sure, one or two of the detectives investigating thought that it might be a murder, but that too, was generic. The guy was pretty ordinary. He was from a small country near Russia originally, and had come to America to try and make something of himself. This, in itself, was almost generic.
The young man had green eyes, and shoulder-length brown hair. This had nothing to do with the case, of course... But it could help in finding out who the young man was. His coworkers said that he was a quiet, gentle man, with a slightly sad smile. They never suspected that anything at all of that sort could happen to him. His boss was a man with a large mass, who had supposedly come from Russia. He spoke with a thick accent, and was almost always smiling. He was the prime suspect.
There were others he worked with. A young man with curly hair and terrified eyes was one, and a blonde with glasses was another. One claimed to be his brother. The man supposedly had a girlfriend, but she was nowhere to be found.
One of the paramedics lifted the young man's head from the table, the blood caking his hair to his cheek. HE sighed and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "What an awful way to go..." One of his subordinates turned to him.
"Suicide, isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's what it looks like."
"What could drive someone to that?"
"I don't know man... He must've been pretty messed up." They took the corpse away to be evaluated and then disposed of, a truly generic ending for the body.
The funeral was a plain one. Not many people showed up. The girlfriend was still nowhere to be found. The boss was there, as was the brother. The police made a few small investigations, but after a long while, gave up as well.
The man had sunk into the true meaning of generic.