He stood and took a step toward me. I pushed myself up, thinking he wanted a hug or something, but then he just spun around,
like he couldn’t remember why he’d stood up in the first place, and then Augustus and I both saw this rage settle into his face.
“Isaac,” Gus said. “What?” “You look a little... Pardon the double entendre, my friend, but there’s something a little worrisome in your eyes.”
Suddenly Isaac started kicking the crap out of his gaming chair, which somersaulted back toward Gus’s bed.
“Here we go,” said Augustus. Isaac chased after the chair and kicked it again.
“Yes,” Augustus said. “Get it. Kick the shit out of that chair!”
Isaac kicked the chair again, until it bounced against Gus’s bed, and then he grabbed one of the pillows
and started slamming it against the wall between the bed and the trophy shelf above.
Augustus looked over at me, cigarette still in his mouth, and half smiled. “I can’t stop thinking about that book.”
“I know, right?” “He never said what happens to the other characters?” “No,” I told him.
Isaac was still throttling the wall with the pillow.
“He moved to Amsterdam, which makes me think maybe he is writing a sequel featuring the Dutch Tulip Man, but he hasn’t published anything.
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