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.
     “What?”
     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)
www.asturmas.com
Cover art by Anthony Sturmas