Timed Showdown

I found an empty stone chess table tucked under the park trees, but it wasn't the checkered board that caught my eye. Right beside a few scattered wooden pawns sat a dual-dial analog chess clock, silent and frozen mid-game. Unacceptable. A true showdown requires a relentless tempo. I strolled up the weathered tabletop, gave my piece a smooth spin, and planted the base of the grip squarely onto the raised chrome plunger. Click-clack! The little red flag tripped, the escapement whirred into a brisk, rhythmic clatter, and the stage had its heartbeat back.