Zombie Boss resigns. I clean his desk, the papers as scattered as his mind. He avoided conflict; he shoved those things aside. I find bills that should have been paid, shingled with post-it notes. On them, Zombie Assistant paints a problem. I find bills that belong to others, or for things we don't pay. These have no warnings.
An employee has already said Zombie Assistant hid bills from him. Then she'd call our President, worried over bills unpaid. I find a stash she moved into his office, after.
She used his failings. She shortened his tenure, and I think his life.
Maybe this seems imaginary. But I see a difference in organization and placement.
The stink of ill-will covers the desk. I won't let this go.