A Flaw in the Defense

A half-finished chessboard sat abandoned across the desk, its wooden pieces frozen in a state of careless blundering. Did white genuinely believe a premature knight fork could distract from the glaring vacancy around the king? How terribly crude. I approached the edge of the board, using the tip of my question-mark cane to nudge a fallen black bishop upright. With a measured slide of my cane against the polished wood, I advanced a solitary pawn two squares forward, sealing the diagonal trap. A silent, inescapable mate in three moves—left for the next amateur to decipher.