“It seems to me now that life is a river, and people race downstream without paddles. If we’re lucky, we learn to pitch our vessels from side to side, just enough to steer around the big rocks. And if we’re very lucky, we enjoy the ride.” He pauses. He can feel his throat tighten and his eyes water. “But the river keeps rolling, and those yet to come will face the same rocks, trapped in the same current. Nothing’s better for my having been here.” “No such thing,” Ackerman says, holding his thumb and index finger a half inch apart. “The world is a tiny bit better, and that’s all you’ve a right
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