Gemotions

The bustling coffee shop felt wrong. No, it wasn't the noise. It was the lack of a familiar face. Old Man Fitzwilliam, the coffee shop owner and his long-time chess opponent, wasn't there. He usually sat at his corner table, nursing a cup of black coffee and challenging anyone who dared to play.

He approached the counter. "Where's Mr. Fitzwilliam?" The barista shrugged. "He sold the place. Moved away. Didn’t say goodbye, just vanished." He felt a chill, a sudden awareness of the world shifting beneath his feet. He looked at the chessboard on the corner table, still set up from their last game. The pieces stared back at him, silent and accusing.