1 Are you sure?

'How did I fall this far this fast?' He thought as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. He tilted his head back and downed the rest of his liquor.

He picked the bottle up off of his desk to refill the glass for the nth time. Just a single drop rolled out and fell into the empty vessel.

'Well isn't that just fantastic.'

In a moment of hazy frustration, he hurled the bottle across the office. It wasn't like there was anyone to care about a mess of broken glass anyway. There was no one around to even hear it shatter.

Even he didn't get to hear it shatter.

When that realization hit him, he jerked his head towards the door where he had thrown the bottle.

In the shadows there stood a petite young woman, the bottle in her hands. She appeared to be carefully studying the label and completely disinterested in him.

"Wh-who are you?" Perhaps he had turned around too quickly. The room was starting to sway. He barely managed to sputter out those three words much less put them in the right order.

"How original," the woman rolled her eyes before fixing them on his. "Shouldn't you be asking yourself that very question?"

She closed the distance between them, never once breaking eye contact. Her gaze and her voice were sharp, cold, and chastising.

As she came closer he could make out more of her appearance. In contrast to his crumpled button down and slacks and the flourishing five-o-clock shadow sprawled across his jaw, she was neatly dressed in a fitted black suit. Her honey colored hair was tidily gathered into a long braid that nearly reached her waist.

She wasn't particularly pretty or even someone who would receive a second glance on a busy street. She seemed to lack any kind of aura or presence. Each step she took was steady but without sound.

Perhaps that is why he didn't notice her come in.

Or maybe he was just stressed enough and drunk enough to hallucinate. Who would bother to come here to look for him? Certainly not a woman.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes to break the suspected illusion but the woman was still there, standing on the opposite side of his desk, waiting for an answer. He took a deep breath to collect himself.

"What do you want from me?"

"Once again, it is not about me Mr. Addison. It is about you. What do you want?" She gingerly set the bottle on his desk.

He let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

"Look lady, I have got no interest in riddles or games. As you can see I am very busy at the moment wallowing in my failure and self-pity. I'd ask for you to join me and would even offer you a drink but I'm afraid that empty bottle there is all that's left." He gestured to the bare office around him. "Just like this is all that is left of my efforts, all that is left of my life."

"Are you finished?" The woman was completely unaffected by his depressed attitude.

"Yes ma'am. I am entirely finished, done, washed up, ruined, and worthless." He propped up his aching head with his hands and rested his elbows on the desk.

"If that were true Mr. Addison, then tell me, why I am here?"

"How the hell should I know! If I knew would I have asked?" This woman was really starting to get under his skin. He stood up and pointed to the door. "Either state your reason for being here or kindly show yourself out!"

"There is no need to shout Mr. Addison…" He cut her off before she could continue.

"Stop calling me that!" The people that had pretended to respect him and had mercilessly betrayed him had been calling him that. In the end they took everything and left him with nothing.

"Why? Is that not your name? Are you not Mr. Chance L. Addison, president of Addison Enterprises, as it says on the other side of that door right over there." She pointed to the office door. "Am I mistaken? Perhaps I really am talking to the wrong man." Every word was laced heavily with sarcasm and disdain.

"If that is truly the case and you are indeed not Mr. Addison, could you please tell me where I might find him?"

His headache was getting worse. All he wanted was for this woman to leave. He didn't care anymore who she was or what she wanted. He just wanted her gone.

"If that is what it takes for you to leave, then no. I am not Chance Addison. Chance is dead so you'll never find him."

"Well that's quite a shame." The woman turned and began to pace like she was in deep thought. "You see I had a business proposition for Mr. Addison but if he is deceased, well that changes things quite a bit." She paused, turned back to him, and once again looked him in the eye. "Are you sure that you are not Mr. Addison?"