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Have you ever felt like most of the dreams you had convinced yourself were worthy of your pursuit really didn’t amount to much?

Like everything was vacuous?

Like you’d been stringing yourself along with goals that were starting to get too lofty or unwieldy for the steps you were taking towards them?

Lance has.

The one thing he doesn’t have is a way out.

He’s not sure he’d take it even if he did.

Someone would have to push him through the escape hatch . . . and that’s exactly what Death intends to do . . .

About the Book

In sum: Midlife crisis. A character who has no purpose and direction finds autonomy in trivial pursuits. Petty, white, middle class toxicity that serves as undercurrent to all the charms and trappings of Americana. The grime beneath the fingernails of the dream you’ve come to loathe, long for, or you’ve deluded yourself into believing you’re a part of.

A depiction of the most practical hell you could imagine.

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