STALEMATE
This is a stalemate.
My journey has been embargoed. I am at an impasse, the proverbial crossroads, except there is no choice to be made but one: sully forth at great peril, or retreat the way I came.
This is the end of the line.
I gaze down at my shiny black shoes and the flowing fabric of my cream colored pants. I am a picture of clean professionalism.
The pavement gleams with the sheen if freshly fallen rain, then it ends abruptly in a jagged line where the road has been severed.
Ahead, a cavernous pit surrounded by roaring heavy equipment, monstrous machines that grumble hungrily as they eat away at the road and the earth beneath. Beyond this chaos lies my destination, no more than a mirage, an unattainable Shangri-la.
Woe is me. Check and mate.
I gaze back at me shoes and the shiny black patent leather seems to smile back at me, urging me to make the right decision. These shoes demand austere respect.
This is a stalemate.
If I continue forward through the muddy wasteland of construction, there will be no turning back. If I retreat, I will be late for my very important date.
My future will be defined by the decision I make. Quite possibly the futures of the children I have yet to have and the futures of their children and every generation after that might carry my name.
This choice will define all that follow it.
A stalemate indeed. Or perhaps I am being overly dramatic. I was told that I can be that way, although I find the idea hard to believe. I am too cautious for drama, too reserved for theatrics.
A quick glance at my watch reveals that it is decision time. It's now or never. Carpe Diem.
I can feel the pieces moving in, the tremble knight, the agitated rook, the menacing queen.
Curse my indecision, it will mark the end of me.
Sully forward or retreat? Oh that it were so simple a choice...
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