It's late. The clock is nearing eleven.
The café is almost empty, the aroma of coffee filling the air.
I sit at the table by the window, watching the street through the rain-fogged glass.
Uncle Laurent is wiping the glasses behind the counter.
"Silver, stop staring at the street. You won't see anything new."
"I like watching people," I reply, stirring my coffee with my spoon. "It makes me think."
He raises his eyebrows. "Overthinking only makes you tired."
I smile slightly.
"Maybe. But I can't stop."
He chuckles softly.
"You're just like your father. He thought more than he lived."
"Do you miss him?" I ask.
Laurent is silent for a few seconds, then replies, "Every day, but it doesn't change anything."
My silent friend,
I never knew that night would be the last time I heard his voice.
The café door suddenly bursts open.
Three men enter, looking like gangsters from an old movie.
They're dressed in black, their faces impassive.
They slowly approach Laurent.
"Laurent, the deadline's up," one of them says dryly.
"I told you I won't pay," Laurent replies calmly.
The second man puts a hand in his pocket and says, "That's not a smart decision."
I intervene, feeling nervous. "What's going on here?"
One of them looks at me. "Your son?"
"My nephew," Laurent replies.
The man gives a half-smile. "Nice. He'll learn something new about life tonight."
One of them pulls a gun from his coat.
"Silver, get out of here!" Laurent shouts quickly.
Then a single shot.
I stand there, stunned.
Laurent falls in front of me.
I see him lying motionless on the floor.
Blood slowly spreads across the tiles.
One of the men shouts, "Grab him!"
I run toward the door without thinking.
I hear them behind me.
The rain intensifies, and the street is dark.
I run through the alleys, trying to catch my breath.
I see a strange light in one of the corners.
A white color that leans toward red.
I don't know why, but I head toward it.
The light is coming from a half-open iron door.
I push the door open and go inside.
The place looks like an old warehouse filled with broken boxes and dust.
In the middle of the room is a small table,
with a glowing chessboard on it.
The pieces move on their own.
I stop in my tracks.
I approach slowly.
I reach out and touch the board.
The light suddenly brightens,
then dims.
I find a black piece in my hand—the black king.
I hear footsteps behind me.
I turn around and see them entering the warehouse.
Without thinking, I pick up the piece.
I say,
"Get away from me!"
One of them laughs and says,
"Or what? You're going to throw your stone at us?"
I throw the stone to the ground.
There's a loud bang, and red light fills the air.
The men scream, then they fall.
As if something unseen crushed them in an instant.
Sudden silence returns.
I look around.
Their bodies lie motionless.
My silent friend,
I don't understand what happened.
I approach and pick up the stone again.
When I place it on the board, all the squares turn red.
Then everything disappears.
I open my eyes.
I'm in my room.
The board is on the table beside me,
and the stones are arranged as they were.
Then I hear a faint voice say from the side of the board,
"Good morning, Silver."
I freeze.
The board is talking.