The pawn

Thanks to Sonya for this week’s inspiring TLT image.

In their air-conditioned room in the heavens, they play, unseen by human eyes.

The massive, chequered table seethes with multicoloured pawns. Mars reaches out and picks one up. It looks like you. He juggles it, then loses interest and lightly tosses it to Venus, who glances at the pinched, tired face, and flings it in the air. Bacchus catches it, grins, puts a bottle of white cider into its hand, drops it and watches it plummet down, down, into an odiferous skip behind a takeaway in Glasgow. He and Mars laugh, delighted at the fun. Minerva frowns; she wishes they would take the game seriously.

You wake up, confused. You climb out. Sweet chilli sauce and relish have glued scraps of bread and burger to your clothes, your hair, your face. You forgot the cider, so you climb back in. The bottle is only half empty.

©Jane Paterson Basil

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