The game commences, the pieces in place. The pawns advance forward, one step at a time, while the kings and queens face each other across the board, expressionless and no hint of the strategies in their mind, if any.
A second of thinking, then a piece moves. One on the offensive, another on the defensive.
Her hands that were folded together, slowly placed themselves lower, lowering her wall of defense.
Slowly the line of pawns disappear, one by one, sweet-talked into the invading army.
Till nothing stands between the king and the queen.
Then as he advances towards her, a step at a time, suddenly pawns appear. And two players fade into his sights, standing guard at her sides.
And he contemplates his moves. And ponders the situation.
The queen with her troop of guardian angels of bishops and castles and pawns at their finest.
And he, with no protection. Alone, hesitant, yet willing.
If she allows him to.
If he’s humble to bare it.
