David, dressed, sat on the edge of the bed, summarising his existence.
Always wanting. Never stopping. Grasping more.
Staring at the carpet, he witnessed the empty abyss of his own creation. It was a long way down.
It mattered not whether he returned the advance. He was finished.
Dead if he did. Dead if he didn't.
But The Client could kiss his note stuffed arse as far as the money was concerned.
Laptop open, he distributed the dividends without trace. Most to charity. Some to his brother. And a little compensatory bonus to Charlotte - he owed her.
Then, for a last cup of coffee.
I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was an image ...
This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.