scarf, light, button: 215 words

She wore the scarf across her nose and mouth, it cut the smell very little but it did overlay it with the thick funk of her perfume. She blinked against the glare of the bare light bulb. Death was not a smell she experienced every day, but she was not unfamiliar with it. She kicked at the corpse with the toe of her high heeled shoe. The scene spoke to her, the poor fool clearly had done this to himself. He was strapped to a chair, for who knew how long. His options had been limited. He had the choice between being tortured slowly and painfully as the electric current lashed at his limbs searing and burning him, or pressing the big red button barely within the reach of his right thumb. Even without any electrical know-how, she would have known that it bypassed the slow release of current and sent a lethal charge through his heart. His thumb was locked on the button. The pain had been too much. She felt a moment's sympathy over his decision. It faded. She took her gloved hands and began pulling the roasted corpse apart and placing it in the blue Rubbermaid tote she had there for the purpose. So few of her guests chose pain over death.