Two weeks ago marks the only time I beat my grandfather

at chess: it was a calmative game after he spent four bedside

hours by my grandmother. Our match today lasted two cups 

of tea and ended with his duly-jovial laughter. The board was

left uncleaned atop the moving-box. Later, he faced the rain 

as he napped on a bench by the drapeless window, and I left 

his house for the last time with a soughing in my heart.

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