by Walter Tevis
When she looked out, sleepily, they were stopped at a traffic signal. Up ahead, to the right, was the forested park that was visible from her room. She shook herself awake and leaned forward to the driver. “Let me off at the park.”
Sunlight filtered through the trees on her. The people on the benches seemed to be the same people as before. It did not matter whether they knew who she was or not. She walked past them along the path into the clearing. Nobody was looking at her. She came to the pavilion and walked up the steps.
About halfway down the first row of concrete tables an old man was sitting alone with the pieces set up in front of him. He was in his sixties and wore the usual gray cap and gray cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up. When she stopped at his table he looked at her inquisitively, but there was no recognition on his face. She sat behind the black pieces and said carefully in Russian, “Would you like to play chess?”
