Down at the bottom, there is a reflection, there is a place where he wants to be. To reach it he must drink it all. Quickly. Drink up.
It is not the sea, it is clearer, but it is as big and as comforting. He loves it. The sea that he is holding tight. Clear and beautiful.
He cannot stop looking down the glass, the beautiful sea he owns, he can see its waves, its dancing creatures, its possibilities. He smiles.
He is falling in love and falling sleep. He is smiling, the heaviness of his body giving in. The soft caress of life over him, loving him.
A soft wave is engulfing him, a numb peace taking over. He could hear distant noises and happiness all over. He is splendidly drowning.
Everything was slowly coming back, sweet torpor fading away, the poignant undertow emerging. He must look for it: the sea in a glass of gin.