“D4. D5. C4,” he recites very quietly, almost under his breath. Those are chess moves. Why is he telling me chess moves? Some animal part of my brain gloms onto his words, repeats them on loop. D4. D5. C4. D4. D5. C4. D4. D5. C4. There’s nothing but fear, and then a synapse fires. D4. D5. C4. That’s the Queen’s Gambit.
