The drop felt the pull of the oil's embrace. It would be easy to merge, to lose his tiny, frantic self in that oily, indifferent calm. No more counting. No more climbing.
He stopped. The number was gone. The hum was silence. flushed away 1 10
He began to roll, not towards the outflow, but towards the wall. He found a rough patch of brick, a vertical ladder of microscopic crystals. He started to climb. The drop felt the pull of the oil's embrace