A Missing Rook

I climbed onto the concrete chess table under the park pavilion to rest my legs. Most of the carved wooden pieces had been left behind in a scattered scramble, but one black rook was teetering upside down inside an empty stone cup holder. I leaned forward, wrapping both curved hands around the base of the piece, and lifted with steady effort until it cleared the rim. Carrying it across the etched grid, I set it firmly upright onto its designated corner square. The board felt quietly resolved once again.