Wasted Days

His eyes search the screen for signs of the dead, exhausted players and dying enemies crying out against the intensity of his hands… punching the buttons as rapidly as his thoughts process to understand what’s happening. It is a game and he is lost, only between cries of victory as the player and him keep taking down the enemy, the room smells of time…

Shoulders hunched, sprawled on the floor, she’s trying to get as near, and as far away from checkmate as possible. Her hands move slowly, rethinking every move, the black and white pieces slowly outnumber each other in their decisions. It’s an ongoing cycle, she looks up, eyes sparkling at the friend, and takes away another piece, as castles move, kings evade and queens attack.

In all their indifference, his arm hangs loosely around her, holding on to, maybe, a similar thought somewhere at the back of their minds.


~ by asad on February 23, 2009.

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