Thick, white snow covered the streets, with trees bare and still even with the cold and dry breeze. Only a small ray of sunlight could be seen as the clouds hid the sun for all to see.
There, sitting by the window of an inn with a worn-out quilt covering her petite form, Beth Harmon stared out into the snow-covered world with bloodshot eyes, having yet again another restless night of sleep.
Its been 3 days since she won the tournament and when she abandoned the company of her guards to play chess with the old Russian folks at the park. It had been fun to just play around even with the cold ambience without the pressure of winning. So every morning at 6:00AM, Beth would take a stroll at that same park and sit with one of the many old men that would be patiently waiting for their opponents or for a chance to play with World Chess Champion, Elizabeth Harmon.
But today wasn't one of those mornings. She had 2 more days remaining in Moscow and had barely went out other than going to the park rather than touring around or shop. Ever since her win against Borgov, everything around her seemed to be in a stalemate. With the thrill and adrenaline of the tournament coming down, the more anxious she became as the day of her departure back to the US drew closer.
Beth stood up, the worn-out quilt sliding off her thin, pale shoulders and onto the red-carpet floor, then walked over to nightstand by the queen-sized bed and takes hold of the chest piece that she had been keeping beside her since it had been given by Borgov. With delicate fingers, she traced the sharp lines that outlined the king and thought back to the day of the tournament, the day Townes appeared before her, and when she heard the voice of the man that had helped her for five weeks at the siren filled noise, basement apartment in New York City.
With a sigh, Beth sat on the edge of the bed as painful and heavy emotions filled her chest. Even after everything that she had done, how much she kept her walls up, and how much she pushed everyone away, the people that she had hurt did everything they could to help her win. Beth knew how she was at the brink of breaking. How she was so close to just giving it all up, the hard work that she and the people that helped her going all to cinders and succumbing to the voices that made her crave for the alcoholic substance and tranquilizer that made all the hurt go away.
Yet each time she thought of doing so, the memory of her and a certain blond grandmaster playing speed chess would pop in her head, laughter filling the dreary basement apartment, and remind her of how far she had gotten that had all started from a letter asking for a 5 dollar entrance money and a promise to repay it back 2 folds.
As the memories came back to haunt her, vividly replaying over and over again in her mind, the pain and heaviness worsens, and hot prickly tears starts to well up around her tired eyes. Beth lifts the covers and sinks into the soft mattress and layers of blankets, her small form engulfed by the warm cotton. But the feeling doesn't last as she remembers the absence of the warm pair of arms that had once encircle her bare waist, the heat and weight of a chest pressed to her back, and the soft kisses that peppered her neck which had also filled her ears with breathless moans during the wee hours of twilight.
With a soft sob, Beth clutched the king close to her chest and succumbed to exhaustion, falling yet again into another fitful slumber.