The water enveloped me like a blanket. The impact was soft, yielding, and the water molded to my body-but then I started to sink. When my head went under, I didn't panic. I wasn't scared or worried. The water was practically warm, and it felt comforting. Yet as the light faded away it became colder, but not uncomfortably so. Bubbles trailed out of my mouth and nose, each one carrying a little piece of my life. Each one was carrying a little piece of hope, a little piece of joy, until I was an empty vessel. But I didn't float to the surface-no, I sank even lower. A whale's white belly passed over me. The last trace of life that I would see. The last thing I remember is focusing on that, but then I couldn't see the white of the whale's belly. I couldn't see anything at all.
The story is in the instructions ^ The image is from google.
