It isn't fair

This was hopeless. He had worked tirelessly for several days emptying the house of sea water. The upper room was now cleared, except from a few crabs passing by him from time to time but the basement? Hopeless.
He looked at the steal door and sighted as he acknowledged that his life work was out of reach, he would not be able to empty the vault, not be able to start anew.
His thin frame fell back on a chair and he wriggled his nose as he felt his bottom become wet as almost everything in his ruined house.
One of his eccentric bottles lied flushed in a corner, he picked it up, carefully almost like a child and wiped off the dirt with the hem of his suit.
"Oh by the love of the sea, what should I do?" He whispered lightly and clung tightly to the bottle.
He had lost everything. His house, his life work, his children and who knows what the fish of a wife is doing while he sits alone in his cold, wet house.
It wasn't fair.
He had done nothing but sacrifice since he came here. Starting with his humanity!
He rose and started to walk furiously around the room. All the years he been floating around trying to save the blasted sea and what have he been repaid with? Loss, despair and bags under his eyes. He kicked a bottle, wiped the table clean and throwed a crab against the wall.
He breathed hard, his vision was blurred and before he had the chance to pull him self together, fresh salt water tears fell from his eyes.
"It isn't fair." He repeatedly whispered as he sank the the moist floor and wrapped his arms around him self.