Flashback

He had hung a fragment of carpet over the entrance to the office. It served as a crude curtain, to separate him from inquiring minds in the businesses foyer. He needed privacy. I hesitated to bolster my nerves before pushing it aside. A deep breath....
It was quite heavy, really. Effective.
I don't remember what I was looking for. Paperwork of some kind; either for the attorney general, or the tax commission. A visit to his files was in order. It was a task that fell to me, since he was in jail.
I leaned into the carpet-curtain.
The office beyond was littered with trash, so deep. I kept losing my footing because of the shifting papers beneath my feet. They were mostly magazines, That kind of magazine. A thousand pairs of hopeless eyes gazed sightlessly up at me from the glossy pages.
The place was silent.
Such a barrage to my reeling senses, that the smell was the last thing that registered in my catalogue of sensations. Revulsion was among the first. A staggering horror. Confusion. Then the musty smell from layers of damp garbage.
Why was it damp?
The filing cabinet was largely empty. The papers I needed, unfortunately, seemed mixed among the periodicals.
So I began to rummage.
I found a hypodermic needle, and then another. One more call to the police seemed to be in order. There were other things amid the trash, things I didn't recognise, but knew a nice girl shouldn't see. They were used. The papers were nowhere to be found, and the mess was driving me past the point of utter despair.
Digging was obviously a matter of personal endangerment, even were I to avoid more drug-polluted needles, the spores of mold wafting into my every breath must cause some endangerment to my life. And the filth...
I called the police, yet again, and staggered back to the safety of my car.
My eyes were dry. There were no tears left.