Epilogue: Des Moines? No way!

He's watching her wandering around his room in his favourite Metallica t-shirt, tracing her fingers over his books. She picks one up. It's his original scroll version of On the Road. He saunters up to her, putting his arms around her waist. She's looking at his margin notes. He's watching her intently.

When did you pull a Sal? He shrugs it off.

Last year. It was no biggie.

She's looking incensed.

No biggie? You didn't tell me!

I hadn't spoken to you for while. Didn't know I had to. He's playing with her hair.

But Kerouac said…

~*~

"So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines."

~*~

He was wrong.

How did you know…?

He's shrugging again.

I know you. But you're my Maggie, not my Marylou.

He smiles, surprised at his revelation and kisses her. The world melts.

~*~

She's wandering around his room in his favourite Metallica t-shirt, tracing her fingers over his books. She picks one up. It's his original scroll version of On the Road. She feels him putting his arms around her waist but she's looking at his margin notes. She's puzzled.

When did you pull a Sal? She asks.

Last year. It was no biggie.

She feels incensed.

No biggie? You didn't tell me!

I hadn't spoken to you for while. Didn't know I had to. He's playing with her hair.

But Kerouac said…

~*~

"So I rushed past the pretty girls, and the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines."

~*~

He was wrong.

She wants to know how he knew what she was thinking.

How did you know…?

He's shrugging again.

I know you. But you're my Maggie, not my Marylou.

She smiles at his revelation and he kisses her. The world melts.