The Window

The humming stopped. The canal was quiet again, except for the ducks and a radio on one of the other boats. Jess was still staring at the Second Chance, at its dark green side and its small curtained windows. Her knuckles were white on the sketchbook.

O zumbido parou. O canal ficou quieto de novo, com exceção dos patos e de um rádio em um dos outros barcos. Jess ainda estava olhando para o Second Chance, para a lateral verde-escura dele e suas pequenas janelas com cortinas. Os nós dos seus dedos estavam brancos no bloco de desenho.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered. “That song. What is it? Do you know it?”

“Você ouviu isso?”, ela sussurrou. “Essa música. O que é? Você conhece?”

Ana thought very carefully before she answered. She had promised herself that she would not lie to a direct question. “I don’t know what it’s called,” she said slowly. It was true. She had never heard its name. “It sounded old.”

Ana pensou com muito cuidado antes de responder. Ela tinha prometido a si mesma que não mentiria para uma pergunta direta. “Não sei como se chama”, ela disse devagar. Era verdade. Ela nunca tinha ouvido o nome dela. “Parecia antiga.”