PawnedContinuing the writing routine, a continuance of sorts from the SatSnip segment.

Same ol’ Cerebral Routine

They made their way along the store fronts, the most affordable way for them pass the time and maintain the meager monetary balance they had. The pawn shop window showcased many personal mementos that desperate people traded for money. She would know, having hocked some of her jewelry there.

It wasn’t until she found herself in front of an art gallery that she noticed he stopped.

Through the wire-framed glasses, he stared at something in the window. She approached him, worried.

His voice was barely louder than the harmonica player nearby. “Pawns in a pawn shop.”

She kept her focus on him, relieved to hear the hint of a long-forgotten laugh at the poor pun. Inwardly, she smiled.

“Behind bars where they belong,” he added. She frowned.

“Remember how we played checkers with the chess pieces,” she asked him, determined to steer him away from the darkness. “Remember how you’d hold the queen and king back until it came time for a pawn to be crowned?”

He nodded. “I kept the knights back from you, too.”

“Because the horses were so pretty,” they said in unison.

He picked up a coin from the sidewalk. “Now I can’t even get you a ride on the merry-go-round.”

“What’s the point of going around in circles?”

He responded with a thin smile. “Touche.”

She took his hand. “Library’s open by now. Want to go play a game of chess?” He shrugged, following her lead.

How long they’d continue with the games played within and without, she couldn’t say. As often as some things went their way, other things held them back, she wasn’t about to admit defeat – not now, not ever.


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