One day I went out for a walk and was stricken with horror and sorrow when I saw this chess set tossed to the curb next to the heaps of trash. Bitter figurative tears I wept when I imagined the possible scenarios leading up to such a tragic act. Chess is to be revered and respected, to be learned and understood. You may never become a master but you can die trying. It was created centuries ago, pretty sure by the game gods, a gift for mortals below. I love it deeply but it's a proud game, standing tall atop the highest peak of the mountain of all games. So mostly what I imagined was someone letting the chess get to them, and frustrated, with a heart turned to angry stone, they cast it away, and a bit of the game's soul died that day. *a wolf howls*
Honestly, I started on a big chess-pun comment, but I just overextended my brain.
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