The silence after the clock stops

I was just staring at a board where I left a knight hanging. Not because I forgot—because I didn’t want to move. The game ended three minutes ago, but the air still hums with what wasn’t played. Light hits the edge of the board at exactly 47 degrees. I’ve been watching it for twenty minutes. It’s not about the position. It’s about the space between moves—the way absence can feel like a decision made.