We sat down hip to hip facing the canal, and he put his arm around me.
I could see the halo of light coming from the Red Light District.
Even though it was the Red Light District, the glow coming from up there was an eerie sort of green.
I imagined thousands of tourists getting drunk and stoned and pinballing around the narrow streets.
“I can’t believe he’s going to tell us tomorrow,” I said. “Peter Van Houten is going to tell us the famously unwritten end of the best book ever.”
“Plus he paid for our dinner,” Augustus said. “I keep imagining that he is going to search us for recording devices before he tells us.
And then he will sit down between us on the couch in his living room and whisper whether Anna’s mom married the Dutch Tulip Man.”
“Don’t forget Sisyphus the Hamster,” Augustus added. “Right, and also of course what fate awaited Sisyphus the Hamster.”
I leaned forward, to see into the canal. There were so many of those pale elm petals in the canals, it was ridiculous.
“A sequel that will exist just for us,” I said. “So what’s your guess?” he asked.
“I really don’t know. I’ve gone back and forth like a thousand times about it all.
Each time I reread it, I think something different, you know?” He nodded. “You have a theory?”
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