Knight Takes King

Took a brisk morning jog down the avenue and cut straight into Washington Square Park. Crisp air, fallen sycamore leaves, and a row of heavy stone chess tables catching the morning sun. One table had an unfinished match sitting out in the open—pawns scattered, black king trapped in the corner. Couldn't resist. I hopped onto the concrete bench, scrambled onto the tabletop, and sized up the board. That carved wooden knight was nearly half my height and smelled of old varnish. Dug my heels into the etched stone grid, threw my shoulder into the piece, and shoved it two squares forward. Checkmate. Stuck the landing and darted off with a grin.