Ash

Sitting and drinking with a dead body has its perks.

Its silent and can't sass at you.

I take small sips from the glass of scotch in my hand, intermittently tapping my fingers against it as I focus on the burn in my throat. Too little at a time, so I swirl the liquid and throw the remaining contents into my mouth, relishing the warm harsh feeling of it in my stomach.

I release a sigh as my eyes fall on my staff, Greg - now a dead man - at my feet. After seeing the video feed of him stealing some of the diamonds at my warehouse, I...