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Weekly Contest #322
Bob never said anything when Wade turned up the pace half a notch.Neither did Wade. Each struggled to keep his breathing quiet and steady, to hide the mounting strain. When it was over and Bob lowered his head, as if studying the "V"-shaped pattern of sweat that darkened his shirt, Wade said, "That was good. About eight minutes.""Yeah," Bob agreed, although both knew they'd knocked off the last three miles well under 7:30.That's the way it went every morning. Wade was always a little bit stronger, a little bit faster, a little bit keener to ...
Weekly Contest #281
At the Research Station Kasparov turned away from the blue glow of his screen when he sensed Ballantine lingering in the doorway. "What's that?" Kasparov asked, standing up and stretching, a little relieved for the diversion. "A package." "I can see that." He laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles extravagantly. As usual, he let out a big sigh as he did this, as if the sound had broken a seal to relieve the air pressure deep inside Kasparov. "Where's it from?" Ballantine shrugged. "It was just sitting there when I looked out to see if it...
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