The board is polished; cherry and aspen in a methodic pattern. The hibiscus' blush as the morning suns rays kiss its outreached petals.
My move; a friendly bounce of movement. A black bumble bee hovering from bloom to bloom, occasionally catching themselves from a burst of wind.
Their move; an interested curiosity. A panther lazily looking at a bunny wonder within its gaze, it's fur warmed by the heat of the jungle, steam rising off a leaf.
My move; a child presenting their drawing. A deep story behind the wiggles and and smears of color. The wind over a corn field in the middle of the Tennessee afternoon.
A jump; you lost a token.
My move; a honest dog in the doorway asking for you to toss the ball. My tail wags as you take it from my mouth; red like an apple on the counter in the fruit bowl in the morning.
You were looking for a pomegranate.
And a minx.
Your move; a cold steel shelf. Smooth and empty of the books it once held. The ocean as the store rolls in grey and almost rumbling like low growl.
Hop, king, double hop.
My move; a tentative brush on on empty canvas. No form or destination for its bold hue. Crimson as life itself; the poppy in the field surrounded by birds eyes.
Your move; a short blade, sharp and clean. A shark in the water, a calculating machine of apathy. A frozen jab.
My move; in shock i am puzzled. A wondering soul lost on the street, searching for any reason why. An ugly duckling lost by a puddle, sodden and melancholy.
Your move.
My move; I scramble to make you like me again as my complex demands. An addict in search of her next fix. Colored by the street lights I posture; a pose, on offer.
My move. I choose not to message again, in fear of being seen as needy. A small survivor in the corner afraid of what everyone thinks of her who stands up regardless.
Hop. Hop. King me. Hop. Hop.
My move.
Hop.
I win.
-Pandaish