Endgame: Zugzwang

by solaris2001

As the dry, metallic click rang through the dark and smoky room, his eyes shut tight, squeezing the sweat cascading down his brow out from the corners of his eyes and along his rough, unshaven face. With that fifth hollow toll, every second he had left to live lost any meaning or warmth or hope or succor, turning existence into a stale, reviling thing that he could not bear to part with nor bear to tolerate any longer. He reached out with a trembling hand across the stained felt table to grasp the greasy revolver at the end of time.