The true death

Death made the first move. An unexpected opening. The game was on.

Natasha stared at the board, contemplating.

Death, its voice the rustle of dead leaves and cold wind. “You are considering not making a move, ever, so the game will never end. There will be no risk of losing, and your soul will be safe. A wise strategy.”

“But,” Death continued, “chess has been your life. You never turned from a challenge, no matter the stakes. Can you resist this, the ultimate game?”

Natasha hesitated, but finally made her play. A game not played is the true death.