Moves

Every move is made with the possibility of having made another.

That's what I kept telling myself when I was playing Bailey in chess. We haven't played in a while, and I stopped going to chess club because I wanted to play chess. Not play chess and eat pretzels or talk about celebrities I've never heard of or movies I've never seen.

Bailey seemed excited to play chess. He said he had so much to tell me when I called, but when he arrived, he hardly spoke. He looked different, but I couldn't figure out why. I tried to remember if he'd worn glasses and looked different because he wasn't anymore. But he'd never worn glasses! When he laughed, it sounded strange and I wondered if I was playing against Bailey or if I'd invited a stranger into my house!

I put on some music.

Bailey played much more aggressively than he used to, and when he won, he stood up and said goodbye.

"Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine," he said.
"Alright, then have a good night."
"Yes, I think I will," he said.

After Bailey left, I wanted to make a salad, but instead I ate cheese and six hard boiled eggs. I wondered: "Did I make the right move? What would have happened if I ate the salad instead?" I imagined a Curt Jimenez in a parallel universe feeling good about what he just ate, a Curt Jimenez who wondered how he would have felt had he eaten eggs and cheese instead, and laughing the idea away.

My fingers smelled like Muenster.

No matter how many times I washed my hands, I smelled the cheese.

I guess if I ate a salad, my fingers wouldn't smell like this.