My volunteer work this summer at the children's cancer center truly became unforgettable.

Throughout the year, I had been constantly trying to get this job, writing multiple requests, and filling out countless forms. I even passed the medical examination four times. And here I was, finally standing at the door of this center, where children with cancer were treated and rehabilitated. 

The first day of work was standard, I would even say boring. The first thing in the morning, after the medical examination, I helped to organize the newly-opened playground center. With the other doctors, we set up tables of different heights and numerous board games. The place turned out very colorful and cozy, it stilled and was now just waiting for the kids to flood in and wash away everything in their way. Everything came to life after lunch because that's when the children have their only free time for entertainment and games. And my job, of course, was to bring maximum joy to everyone.

Among the sea of happy children trying to play every game and touch every toy, there was an island of silence, calmness, and melancholy. It was Misha, a nine-year-old boy, who seemed most compelling to me at first glance. He was the only one I couldn't entertain. His soul seemed to be tied to the anchor with thick ropes, which I couldn't lift from the bottom no matter how hard I tried. His eyes were always dull, like dusty glasses that I could only wipe them clean on the fourth day. It turned out that Misha missed playing chess, but the other children in the center didn't like the game, considering it boring and slow. Being left out, Misha couldn't find his place. This seemingly dull game was his whole life. He spent all his time at the board before the sickness, always thinking that he would be the next Magnus Carlsen (and later I understood why).

Upon learning this, I immediately knew I could put a smile on Misha's face. Taking out the chess set, I offered him a match, thinking to myself, "Oh, this isn’t an issue - I play pretty well." This surprised Misha! But I was even more surprised when, after counting, I realized that I had only won two games out of twelve played. And there I was, spending the whole day with him at the board, finding a way to connect. While the other kids played different games, I simply sat with Misha at a small green table, moving the pieces.

The next day, Misha came half an hour earlier, looking for me. I saw a spark in his eyes that finally lit up the murky darkness. Excited with a fresh idea, he suggested playing with me without one knight. This way, he increased my chances of winning. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I agreed and started to set up the pieces. During the game, I discovered another interest of Misha's. With ears perked up, he listened to American history, especially the times of the Civil War. By the second week, disappointed with my chess skills, Misha was coming to see me every day just to hear stories. It seemed like I had unlocked something in him; he showed himself to me. Learning that I lived in New York, he shared that his other dream was to visit the Empire State Building, walk in Times Square, and Central Park. Moving from chess to stories to future dreams, we became best friends. Misha became much happier than in the first days, which brought me even greater joy.

It was a Thursday. Misha came much earlier than usual, with the chess set, and as usual, removing one knight. He jokingly said this time he was gifting it to me because he would never need it again. To my surprise, the game dragged on for so long that we couldn't determine a winner in the end. A nurse came for Misha, and, hastily leaving, he promised to come back and finish the match, even though I offered a draw. I put the board aside and told the other kids not to touch it.

A week passed, and Misha didn't come to the playground. I was told that he was in the recovery center. It turned out that on that Thursday, a nurse came for him to prepare him for surgery. I have heard nothing since then about Misha. My life didn’t feel the same without him anymore. Every morning I would think about him when I saw that unfinished game, and time seemed to pass slower.

After three more weeks, I went to work on Friday in the morning for my last day. After lunch, I eagerly went to the ward where Misha lived to say goodbye. To my surprise, the room was completely empty, as if no one had ever lived there. I hurriedly ran to the nurse to ask about my friend. When she heard Misha's name, tears filled her eyes, and she looked up at the sky. In shock, my eyes started to darken, and my heart sank. The knight piece fell from my hands...