It was all about finding the right size. The shape of the piece didn’t mean a thing unless it FIT properly in the socket. My eyes scanned through the possible selections, until I settled on the right size. Delicately, I picked up the piece and brought it over to the lighted work area. Sure enough, my choice slid right into place. I smiled and started to tie the pieces together. My fingers were nimble and the thread was strong. I was getting good at this.
I tested my work, and smiled as it held up to the stress. There was an abrupt shake, and whimper, and my puzzle almost fell apart. I got up quickly and went over to the medicine cabinet and grabbed what I needed. My puzzle shook again, and I thought I heard a piece fall. I ran back and plunged the needle in. A few moments later, the shaking stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued. My thoughts focused on my work.
When I was focused, there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. My fingers remembered their training. Years of my life were spent working on puzzles. I was at one time the best in the world.
Bit by bit my masterpiece came together. I had learned a lot from doing similar puzzles before, but today would be the first time I finished as quick as I wanted. Working quick, but delicately had paid off. The hardest part was actually putting on the final touches. I connected the overlapping flaps of skin, and wrapped up the bloody scars. After 10 hours, I was done.