Keys in a Storm

I wrote this in class today, waiting for my teacher. Usually when I can't think of anything to write right away I start with an expletive. For some reason that helps.

"Damn!" Peter heard a splashing sound as it slipped through the bars. He pictured his keys washing out to sea, drowning in the rapids formed by the rain. Peter succumbed to a violent fit of self loathing that was punching its way through the lower part of his stomach. The keys, on the other hand, made themselves comfortable, settling in for the several decades they would spend, submerged in water, lying on the concrete floor below the storm grate.