onto his wrist and began showing everyone.
Then it was my turn.
Dad tore away the paper, opened the chessboard case, and lifted one of the kings.
“Well, isn’t that something,” he said.
Then he closed the box.
A moment later, he turned toward the guests and asked if anyone wanted another beer.
I smiled because I didn’t know what else to do.
Throughout the afternoon, Dad kept admiring Trent’s watch.
Whenever someone came over, he’d proudly show it off.
Meanwhile, my chess set remained on a table among dirty dessert plates.
The next morning, I returned because I’d forgotten my jacket.
The garbage containers were already beside the street.
As I passed them, a piece of brown wrapping paper caught my attention.
I recognized it immediately.
I opened the recycling bag.
There was my handmade chess set.
The paper still surrounded it, secured with the same string.
It was
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