His smile is a hunter’s snare and I’m the rabbit he’s caught.
He glides through hallways with practiced ease, deft fingers clutching a laptop between his chest and arm. He speaks with a confidence, rendering my speech useless as eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses stare at my stuttering figure.
Strike one.
My first game was with him. He plays white against the darkness that is me, and he moves with fluidity, experience in his actions as his sweet words take away my pawns and horses, leaving me with nothing but rooks, knights, and bishops, a withering queen and my disheveled king. He lights up the battle that has been going o