Lissa takes her hand and squeezes it lightly. “Won’t be a sec.”

Hannah watches her friend weave over to the bar, watches the young man serving light up at her attention. A bright, shared laugh and Lissa is back outside, her red wine in a plastic cup. “All right if I have a quick cig?”

Hannah holds the wine while Lissa rolls. “When are you going to give that up?”

“Soon.” Lissa lights up and blows smoke over her shoulder.

“You’ve been saying that for fifteen years.”

“Have I? Oh well.” Lissa’s bangles clink as she reaches back to take her wine. “I had the callback,” she says.

“Oh?” It’s terrible, but Hannah never remembers. There have been so many auditions. So many parts almost had.

“A fringe thing—but a good thing. A good director. The Polish woman.”

“Ah.” She remembers now. “Chekhov?”

“Yeah. Vanya. Yelena.”

“So how did it go?”

Lissa shrugs. “Good. In parts.” She takes a sip of wine. “Who knows? She worked with me quite a bit on the speech.” And then she launches into an impression of the Polish director, replete with accents and mannerisms.

“Here, do it again. Make it real. None of this—how do you say it? Microwave emotion—put it on high. Two minutes. Ping! Tastes like shit.”

“Jesus,” says Hannah, laughing. It always astonishes her, the crap Lissa puts up with. “Well, if you don’t get the part, you could always do a one-woman show, Directors I Have Known and Been Rejected By.”

“Yeah well, that’d be funny if it weren’t true. No. It is funny. Just . . .” Lissa frowns and throws her cigarette into the gutter. “Don’t say it again.”

“Not bad,” says Lissa, as they emerge from the cinema into the darkness of the street outside. “Bit Chekhovy actually.” She threads her arm through Hannah’s. “Not much happens forever and then the big emotional punch. The Polish director would probably have loved it. Long though,” she continues, as they head down towards the market, “and no decent parts for women.”

“No?” It hadn’t occurred to Hannah, but now that she thinks of it, it’s true.

“Wouldn’t pass the Bechdel test.”

“The Bechdel test?”

“Jesus, Han, call yourself a feminist.” Lissa steers her towards the crossing. “You know—does a film have two women in it? Do they both have names? Do they have a conversation about something other than a man? This American writer came up with it. Loads of them fail it. Most of them.”

Hannah thinks. “They did have that conversation,” she says. “In the middle of the film. About the fish.”

They both snort with laughter as they cross the street arm in arm.

“Speaking of fish,” says Lissa, “you want to eat something? We could head down and get some noodles.”

Hannah pulls out her phone. “I should get back. I’ve got a report due tomorrow.”

“Through the market then?”