The Quiet Square

A weathered concrete chess table stood near the hedge. Someone had walked away, leaving two stray tokens behind. I climbed up from the slatted bench onto the cool stone slab. A small carved pawn of pale birch rested tilted between squares, caught along a hairline fissure in the mortar. Beside it sat a flat white glass counter. I placed both hands against the wooden base, easing it forward until it settled squarely within the dark square. Then I nudged the glass piece across the seam into the white. Opposing, yet completely aligned. I stepped back along the border line, letting the quiet grid hold its balance.