Sep 23, 2017
@codenamejunior
It’s a cheap plastic chess set from a shop down the road, but Mikhail finds it calming all the same. He runs his fingers over the smooth texture of each piece, identifying each of them by touch. Pawn, bishop, king, knight. Each goes to its proper place.
A shadow falls across the board. Mikhail doesn’t even look up, squinting a little against the sudden dark. “You’re late, Junior.”