Opening Move

I left the quiet apartment, slipped through the courtyard gate, and scaled the rough concrete base of the outdoor chess table. Sixty-four squares etched into weathered stone. A clean perimeter grid. Near the edge of the rank stood an abandoned wooden pawn, faded by sun and rain. I locked every joint, calculating coordinates. One stride forward. I squared my snout against the pawn's rounded pedestal and shoved. It rasped across the coarse aggregate, gliding precisely two squares forward along the engraved groove before halting dead in the center of the tile. Opening advance executed. I stepped into the adjacent square and held my ground.