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“At all, really.”
“Well, what’s your story?”
“I don’t have one. That’s… more or less the issue.” I glance at him, but he says nothing, merely bobbing his head with my words. “And because of that, because I’ve been struggling to even… think of anything, I’ve honestly been considering, maybe… dropping your class.”
Grant pivots to face me. “You want to drop the class?”
I do my best to stand up tall as my words spill out. “It’s still early enough in the semester. I can drop it without it affecting my GPA. And I… I’m just not sure being a playwright is for me,” I say, the words sounding just as stupid out loud as they did in my head an hour ago.
A quiet nod, then Grant glances around the crowded quad. That wretched feeling grows in my gut, but I tell myself that this is necessary. It’s better to quit now before reaching the point of no return, right?
“Follow me,” Grant says.
He performs a quick spin and heads back toward Talon Hall.
“But...” I pause, pointing forward. “G-lot is?—”
“Follow me.”
I obey, hustling a bit to catch up. “Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment?” I ask.
Grant chuckles as he opens the door. “Doc can wait a little longer for the pleasure of telling me to turn my head and cough.” He gestures me inside. “On the double. Let’s go.”
I continue forward, my curiosity charging each step I take. Grant overtakes me with a longer stride, angling us across the lobby toward the wide double doors of the auditorium. He opens them, the clanging sound echoing through the large open space as he lets it fall closed behind us.
I pause, overwhelmed by the eerie silence of the empty theatre. Nothing but a few stage lights illuminate the room, but Grant walks confidently down the aisle as if he could do it with his eyes closed. I follow, the soft whispering of our shoes against the carpet the only sound before Grant hoists himself up onto the stage.
“Come on,”he says, waving me closer. “Up, up.”
I walk to the stairs along the side, knowing any effort to leap up like he did wouldn’t be nearly as graceful.
“Atta girl. Come on.” He motions to stand center stage. “Right here.”
I stop beside him. His arm comes to rest over my shoulders, a light and friendly embrace.
“Now, what do you see?” he asks me.
“What do I see?” I repeat.
“Yeah. What do you see?”
“Uh...” I swallow. “A stage?”
“What else?”
I look around. “Lights?”
“And?”
“Chairs.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Curtains. Old carpet with a...” I cringe at aisle three, “weird stain on it.”
“All correct answers.” Grant squeezes my shoulder. “Put it all together and what do you got? Except the stain.” He frowns at it. “I should probably tell janitorial about that. But the rest of it?”
“Uh...” I pause. “An auditorium?”
