Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Anatoly had his routine for chess. He played his games in the rec room until he was gently reminded of the need for eating or for taking a break. This afternoon he had set up his board on a table outside of his hut - not only to take advantage of the sunshine but to shield himself and his opponent from the prying eyes of one Freddie Trumper. Yes, he might be Jonas's protege but that did not mean he had to be present at every game, especially for this one.

"Black or white?" Anatoly asked as he faced Jonas, an easy smile on his face. They had played many times before but there was nothing quite like the thrill of anticipation, of waiting for the first move and the game to start properly.