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Harry flipped open his diary. Or his journal. He and Bob often went back and forth over whether men kept journals or diaries. Frankly, Harry didn’t really care. It was his story — messy, personal, and worth a second look.

He flipped through some of the early pages and paused.
"Let me flush your questions away."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to forget that he had ever considered putting that on business cards. Opening them again, he scanned the rest of the page, filled with other rejected slogans:

• When life is shitty, seek out Bowels.

• Harry Bowels, P.I.: No case is too dirty.

Did he really think puns on his own name were funny?

• The P.I. Bowl — Winning Bowels.

He winced. That one still haunted him.

• Bowels: The P.I. to help you feel good again.

• Bowels: When justice gets… constipated.

Harry groaned and shut the journal. He’d remembered enough.