The Chess Players – Part 2: Endgame
Mature & Silver·EN·2 min read·Published 2026-11-07, updated 2026-11-07·Part 2 of 2
On the last Saturday of September, Rosario won.
It took forty moves. The park was quiet and golden. A fountain murmured nearby. A few leaves had begun to drift from the plane trees. She played with a steady hand, her mind clear and sharp as a scalpel. When she moved her bishop to the final square, she held her breath.
Anselmo looked at the board for a long time.
"Checkmate," he said, softly.
"Is it?"
"It is."
"I won."
"You won." He set down his king. His smile was radiant. "Magnificent."
Rosario sat in stunned silence. Then she laughed, a rich delighted whoop that sent the pigeons scattering. The men at the next bench applauded. A child on a bicycle rang her bell.
They stayed on after the others had gone. The light turned amber, slanting across the stone table and the scattered pieces. Anselmo poured coffee from her thermos into two paper cups.
"To the nurse," he said.
"To the teacher."
They drank. The park was quiet. A pair of swallows flew over the fountain.
"Can I ask you something?" said Rosario.
"Yes."
"Do I get a prize?"
"Name it."
"May I kiss you, Anselmo?"
He flushed to his silver hair. "Yes," he said, gravely. "And if you say stop, you must give me a rematch."
"I'd give you a rematch every day for the rest of my life."
"That is the best punishment I have ever heard."
She kissed him, gentle and amused, a hand on his linen scarf. He kissed her back, shy and astonished and tender, tasting of coffee and sun. The chessboard gleamed between them. A leaf spiralled down and landed on the black king.
When they parted, both of them were smiling.
"Green?" he asked.
"Green," said Rosario. "Very green."
They play every morning in the park. She wins about half the time. He says that is exactly right.
More mature romance stories: Autumn in Quebec · The Quilting Circle · The Silver Ballroom
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