Losing games

She felt pretty in her dress today. Nervously, she tucked her hair back behind her ear as she waited for him to make a move.
They were playing chess so she didn’t have to wait for long. He took another pawn. They played everyday in the break room too eek out the last few minutes of the lunch hour. 
She’s good at chess and that’s the only reason he played with her, but it still felt like attention. It seemed nearly intimate. “Check.”
Their conversations rolled from theoretical to practical — tone could be sassy, silly or serious. The topic though, was always chess.
She sighed and he assumed it was because her queen was long gone. She re-tucked her hair and crossed her ankles. They talked about the meaning of sacrifice. 
“That was a good game,” he said.
“Yeah, it was. But I would play it differently if I could do it again.”



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