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268 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2019
It was my own personal theory that most lifetimes could be summed up by ten to twenty moments, meaningful snippets ranging from a handful of seconds to a few spins around the clock face that contained both the best and worst of one’s character and experiences...In my case, it only took thirteen moments from my forty-three years to convey an insightful understanding of my life, twelve recollections that I told proudly and one that always stung a little bit in the telling.It's the stinging ones that matter most here. Shit happens!

Tom hoped this conversation was over and quietly stared out the car window at the faces of the strangers walking along Quince Street. One moment there was a stylishly attired couple and the next moment a homeless person in rags leaning against a wall. From his passing glance, he thought he saw a common loneliness in the faces of all three strangersNO, no, no. In another section, Bowe offers excessive detail about how Nick’s error resulted in awfulness. Yeah, we get it. It is not necessary to spell it all out for us. There is a lovely bit at Tom’s property later in the book in which Tom and Nick find something of considerable public interest. It works well as a metaphor, at least until the author has to go and spell out for us the exact meaning of the metaphor. I felt a bit like an audience member at the cinema who sees the little girl turn to go back into the room the monster/killer/alien just entered, so she can retrieve a favorite stuffy. No, Sweetie. Don’t do it! Don’t go there!and wondered if his weary mug made four.[the crossing out is mine]