Aaron Burch

In the parking lot, asked, he answered.
He thought of circumstances for which he'd tried to teach himself to think ahead: chess, SCRABBLE, pool.
From driver's ed, he remembers learning an acronym for changing lanes, but not the letters nor words. He only remembers the first trick: to look ahead, down the road, out beyond what is directly in front of you.
Later, parked again, elsewhere, a conversation about uncertainty, unrelated. He thought of chewing gum and walking, patting his head and rubbing his belly. He remembered someone telling him great chess players could think 15 moves ahead, someone else saying that just isn't true. Thinking too far ahead is a waste of time, the information unknown.