the last human died today in captivity. it was 137 years old. it passed away peacefully in it's enclosure, under a weighted blanket, clutching a Squishmallow (a type of pseudo-companion favored by the infamously social human species).
the last human's handlers are devastated despite knowing its end was near- the average lifespan of a human in the wild rarely exceeded 80 years. "it always wanted to talk to me" one handler tearfully recounted. "i'll never forget the smile it gave us every time we opened up for morning feedings. it was like i was its best friend. it really made you feel special". although the human had long since been removed from public viewings, those who had been lucky enough to see it during its exhibition days are similarly saddened by the loss. "i'll never forget," one former spectator said, "going to see the human exhibition when i was young. i was oddly frightened, but i was pushed to the front of the crowd in all the madness. it was quite the spectacle to see a human back then. i don't know if it could sense my fear, but for a moment, we made eye contact. and it waved at me. and i waved back. and it waved again, more excitedly this time." the former spectator chuckles. "they had to drag me away from the exhibit after that. i could have spent hours just sitting there with that thing, making motions at each other. how amazing it is, to be able to communicate with something so alien to you, in such a simple way".
