This is the ninth chapter of my month-long work of fiction, NOV.
Something’s af—t. He’s g—d but he’s not perfect; his lacunae don’t ch—se where to l—k, it’s always the first thing he sees, which is not always worth the most, and sometimes it’s the second thing t— and he is sn—kered. His eyes are wide open but not under full conscious control. But it makes the game exciting, and that’s what keeps the betting going and the money flowing. He’s a useful t—l… but he’s not a f—l, not a clown, not a patsy, not a chump. He’s OK, better than OK.
And not losing, not all the time. He wins the first game by a bit of an edge; Tanya isn’t used to him yet. He loses the second by a little and the third by a little more. But he’s picking up the strategy. It’s not just finding the patterns; it’s building opportunities and openings and maintaining flexibility, and it’s limiting your opponent’s flexibility and cutting off openings. Watch: where is she looking? What kinds of things is she laying down?
He wins the fourth game. And the fifth. Continue reading
Sesquiotica 