• Click.

    Click.

    Click.

    Click.

    Cli-Thump.
    "Your turn, grandfather." The boy's hand lifted off of the timer with care, for fear of breaking the old clock. The wooden frame rattled when it was disturbed, and the old hands on the faces turned reluctantly, as if they would rather point to six than to seven, or to ten instead of eleven.

    Cli-Thump.

    "Ha! I got you now, me boy, get out of that one!" The boy's thoughts were dragged away from the clock to the game, eyes searching for his elder's move.
    "Where did you go, grandfather?" The old man leaned back in his chair, folding his arms triumphantly, a broad smile on his face.
    "You would like me to say, wouldn't you, lad?" He replied, voice laiden with the rich tones of victory. "I'm not letting you see my strategy that easily."
    "As you say, grandfather."

    Click.

    The boy had found his grandfather's stealthy move during his speech of valor. He grinned to himself, he slid his bishop gently across the board to gently tap against the knight, and push it off of the board.

    Cli-Thump.

    "Lord!" the grandfather's hands raised above his head, his eyes searching for an escape. "When did you get so good at this game, boy?!" The old man set his arms at each side of the chess board, to many glances by park passersby.

    Click.

    The boy looked up at his grandfather's weathered, normally kind but now worried face.
    "I don't know, grandfather."
    The older man sighed, and leaned back again.

    Click.

    "Ah, ha ha, you may have bested your granddad, me boy." His eyebrows jumped, and he leaned forward. "Or have you?" He gripped the rook with his gnarled fingers, and slid it down the fine wooden board, to stop next to his old king.

    Cli-Thump.

    "Check." The old man said, a wide smirk across his face for the second time.
    This time, though, the boy thought, he may have gotten me. His vision glanced over the pieces, each intricate in it's own way, to spot his end.
    He made the only move he could, and slid his king to it's eastern square.

    Thump.

    Uh..oh...

    "Grandfather...your timer..." The boy looked down at the timer, empty of time. The old man picked up the old wooden clock, and sighed.
    "Ah, that really is a shame."
    He turned it around, and tried to wind it.
    The keys were tight.
    "That truly is." He looked to the boy, and gave him a tired smile, as if a tide of old memory had washed over him.
    "I've had this clock...since before I was born. It's seen more years than either of us, me boy." He turned to look at it, face to face. He gently turned the hour hand of the clock to show noon.
    He looked up from the clock, grinning. "Well, my boy, it seems that without a clock, we cannot finish our game." He offered his hand.
    "We both win!"
    The boy grinned, and took the old man's hand in his.
    "Thank you, grandfather."
    "Oh, no need for thanks, lad. You play an excellent game. Still, you'll never beat your granddad. Remember that." He grinned to the boy, eyes twinkling, and stood from the bench. He took a deep breath of the crisp park air, and started to walk away.
    The boy sat, looking at the ended game. He was one move away from losing.
    But he won.
    They both did.
    He grinned.

    "You coming, lad?"
    "Yes, grandfather!"