The more he thought, the more he drank. The more he drank, the more he remembered. The more he remembered, the more he wished to forget. The more he wished to forget, the more he drank. And so it went through the night until the warmth within him and that of the blanket lulled him off to sleep, letting the glass fall to the floor and rolling away, the cold blue of the winter room giving away to the warm embrace of oblivion.