“Chess, anyone?” The old man settled in to the leather chair on the clear chess piece side of the table. This was his usual Sunday afternoon activity and there was always some youngster under seventy willing to accept his challenge.
The ancient library was filled with well read English tomes of adventure. The building also housed rooms of entertainment similar to this one with assorted tables occupied by various chess sets, all unique in their appearance. The old man preferred the clear glass set with forms he could easily grasp and identify.
He reached out to find them all in order, his touch accommodating his failing eyesight. In a few minutes a companion joined the table as his opponent. “Good day, Joseph” and the younger man took his seat. “I see you have chosen your favorite, the crystal.”
Joseph smiled and gave a reply. “Good to see you again, Harold. How’s the family?” The opponent pushed forward his pawn and the old man reciprocated with his own piece.
“Oh, brilliant as ever! The grandson is entering university in Autumn.”
The habitual conversation continued as the two men played their familiar game. An ordinary experience on a Sunday afternoon in Liverpool.