When he closed his eyes Tom felt like he was falling in on himself, like an endless wave pouring into a caldera. Once the water had drained away, he sensed that would be the end. The big nothing. He was calmer than he thought he’d be. Not exactly resigned; more at peace. He’d made a mess of his life, but who hadn’t? Wrong choices, bad decisions, a myriad of indiscretions. But there’d been good moments: laughter, love, small triumphs. And now there was death. The first thing at which he’d excelled. He smiled as the water slowed to a trickle.
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.