Gemotions

The chess club room was silent, the silence broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock. David stared at the empty chessboard, the pieces arranged as if a game had been abruptly halted. He knew, instinctively, that something was wrong. Mr. Petrov, his chess master, his father figure, his teacher, was gone. A single message lay on the table: “Checkmate. Goodbye.” His fingers twitched, itching to move a piece, to strategize, to find some semblance of control in the swirling chaos inside him. He felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from under him.