Samuel’s King
Dan SzczesnySamuel smooths the loose corners of his beige cardigan, taking his time, lurking over the chess board like a raven. His eyes dart this way and that.
I’ve known him long to enough to allow for these pauses. It gives us time to breath; time for the perfect cool evening to settle in over Victory Park, the sun engaging the sky in swaths of orange and yellow just over the pagoda.
Samuel takes these matches seriously. I can’t remember the last time I won a game, perhaps two, no three decades ago? That’s not important to me though. I prefer his company. He prefers to win.
After a period of time so extended that I check to make sure he hasn’t dozed off, he cautiously slides his Queen’s Rook to a dangerous square and I’m puzzled for a moment, certain that he’s setting
