Story Time: The Puzzle

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.