As he sank to the depths of despair, the Lovetrucker’s first thoughts, as always, were of himself. The miasma that surrounded him was typical of this time of day and simply reflected his state of mind more than any perceived reality. Who was he to say who swims and who drowns?

Fish flitted by as his body sank, unaware of his presence like the birds in the air and the other drivers on the road, all intent on their own purposes and paths to random tomorrows. Only the glitches and scratches that the ravenous birds of yesterday had inflicted on him were any tangible evidence of a previous upright existence on dry land. Had he really chosen to abandon the womb of water all those eons ago?

He was supported by the tender fingers of the tide and swept along on her huge body as she lumbered through timeless space. Still sinking, he reflected on the task at hand and discovered there was none. Effortlessly he drifted further and further down into the dark reaches of the indigo Ocean and the deeper terrors therein.

Finally he arrived at the lair of the great worm that wriggles through the earth in slow ponderous mouthfuls, seeking comfort and solace, knowing there is none at any level and especially at this depth.