She had been naked when they went to sleep, but fully clothed when she woke him up. He didn’t notice this right away, but he would insert it into the memory years later.
The first thing he said when she told him about the email she inadvertently read was, “Zugzwang.” She just looked off into some darkened corner of the room, shaking her head, unbelieving that he wasn’t responding intelligibly.
“Zugzwang,” he said again, “story of my life. It’s usually only used to describe situations in chess, but chess being one of those games that was seemingly invented only for its value as a metaphor to life itself, the term can be quite fitting to other situations. It’s when a player would be better off if it wasn’t his turn. Making a move is counterproductive, but it’s his move and he has to go, even knowing that he’ll be worse off for it. That’s this.” He sat up against the wall, the window blinds shaking at the movement. He noticed, not without a sense of humor, that he was still completely naked. Serious conversations always went better in the nude, he had learned. But both parties had to be nude.
She turned back to him. When had she grabbed her purse, put on her shoes? She wasn’t going to say anything.
