But Michael couldn´t drop it. He couldn't just leave it alone. After tossing his keys onto the table in the living room, he went to turn on a couple of lamps. He would offer her a drink. Did he have anything in the kitchen besides beer? Had he already finished that bottle of wine that he got a while back?
“There have been so many productions of this play done already,” he continued, trying not to sound like a teacher. “The question is, how do you do a new version of a classic?”
“That's not the question,” Amanda said.
She turned off the lamps he had just turned on, plunging the living room back into near-darkness. From the windows facing the avenue, a soft blue glow filled the room from the lights coming from outside. The sounds of the city seemed louder now: someone was yelling at somebody else downstairs, a car was honking its horn, and some hip hop music was bumping loudly from someone´s car.
“That's not,” she repeated slowly, “the question.”
4709 words (MF)
Cover art by Anthony Sturmas
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