Blue Piece

The four-lobed piece was painted the velvet tint of a clear noon sky, a featureless tone that covered two-thirds of the jigsaw. A grassy knoll filled the remainder.

But this piece was especially difficult. It physically fit almost anywhere. Pigmentation allowed it to belong in dozens of locations. That left the lobes as sole determinant. They were small. Unintrusive. Allowing it to drop easily into any space.

At first glance, a fit. Closer inspection revealed gaps. The piece was present but did not lock fast with its neighbors. It could participate in that position, but also be removed with ease. Inevitably, such voids were filled with pieces that joined appropriately; the four-lobed denied any return.

Then the vagrant piece pressed into a slot with satisfying friction. Its lobes contiguous with its surroundings.

I studied those interlocking curves—

The empirical belonging.

The snugness.

I imagined how difficult it would be to displace this particular piece. The absence left and, inevitably, felt. Impossible to substitute.

And I burned with envy.