“A game,” the old woman proposed. “You win, I join you without complaint. I win, I get another year.”
Death found this a refreshing change from the usual begging and countered, “Another month.”
The board was set and the woman moved her first piece. Minutes ticked by; the only sound was the clicking of ivory on wood.
The old woman, a thrice-world champion, was no match for millennia of experience. One last move and she sat back faintly smiling.
“Nice play,” she offered.
Death eyed her. “You’re not upset?”
“No. All I wanted was one more game.”
Then the queen fell.