The next day I ended up at Hangs on Damon Street in Paxton. Chess had left his Quest parked in my drive and his beanie at my house. Being responsible, both his car and the beanie needed returned to him. I shouldn’t have driven in the snow, but the beanie kept staring at me, telling me it wanted to be back with Chess. So I drove through Winter Mist Village and ended up in Paxton, which took twice as long as usual because Chess’s Quest didn’t have studs.
Chess’s place of business lacked color. It had a masculine embrace to it, showcasing lots of black equipment, gray carpet, and white walls. Color could have enhanced it more. Maybe some blushing blues or radiant reds. Something to liven the gym up. Some breath.
Mirrors decorated the walls in numerous places. High-end equipment ranged from
