Amuse-bouche:

“They wanted to check with Dr. Robert before sending.”

“Who’s that?”

“Don’t act stupid, you’ve known Dr. Robert for years.”

“Right, but who’s Cindy?”

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Today’s Wonderful Word: “iiwi.”

Definition: a Hawaiian bird with a red body, black wings, and a pinkish-red curved bill

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“Alright! Another one down.” I clicked the edge piece into its neighboring grooves and snapped it flush against the table. The border was done. Now on to filling it in.

“I wonder how it’s going to turn out,” he said, voicing my thought. He brushed a few loose, overlapping center pieces so that we could perceive of their full fronts.

“Me too,” I said. “It reminds me of those brain games I used to do in college.”

We rearranged by color and filled the corner closest to him. We still had no idea which way was up, left, right, or down. He clicked another piece home, and we stared at the growing image before us. It was less of an image so much as a design, flowing with script and shades of color that appeared to morph depending on the angle of incoming light.

Three of the four edges were easier to fill in than the last. Frustratingly, the center of the rectangle was even more challenging than the fourth edge.

“I give up.” He sighed and stretched his shoulder-blades up and over the couch seat cushions.

I stood from the floor where I’d been sitting opposite him at the coffee table. “No wonder they got rid of this thing.” I gestured towards the neighbor’s driveway outside our living room window.

“We don’t even know if all the pieces are here.” He looked at what was left of the garage sell next door. “Let’s give it till tomorrow and look at it with fresh eyes.”

“Agreed.” I skirted our living room workstation and padded into the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”

“Sure.” He lifted himself from the floor to the couch. “Actually, let me switch it up today, I’ll do a- Ow!” He knocked his knee on the coffee table.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Damn corner drew blood.”

“Careful,” I said, coming to inspect. “Let me take a look.” As I bent to kneel, a shadowy blur danced on the puzzle surface, across only the connected pieces.

“What the hell was that?”

He’d seen it too, then.

“I don’t know.” I stared at the dark spot and tilted my head. The puzzle’s glaze glinted in a new light with new hues on the unfitted pieces.

“Trick of the light.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe we should-”

I cut myself short as the puzzle’s script design shifted beneath the gloss.

“Yep, we definitely should throw it out,” I said. “Here, you get cleaned up and I’ll burn it.” I swept a few loose pieces into the box. “Open the fire place screen, would you?” I cleared the space outside the edges so that all that was left was to deconstruct our progress and sweep off the inner loose pieces.

His stillness shocked me into a stillness of my own.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond.

I called his name. It sounded foreign on my numbing lips.

He didn’t move. His mouth was agape. His gaze was fixed on the puzzle. I didn’t dare follow his gaze. Instead, my eyes found his wound, the dark trail tracing from his knee towards his ankle, the only thing on him or in him with apparent movement.

“Come on, get up. What’s wrong?” I shook him. My heart shook more violently and pushed my feet to the arm of the couch, putting him between me and the coffee table. I silently admonished myself for using his immobile vulnerability as a shield.

I shook myself. “I’ll do it,” I said, my resolve dissolving on deaf ears. I rounded the coffee table, opened the fire place screen, and tossed the box onto the log rack. With their slower rhythm, my hurried footsteps defied the beating in my ears. I dug in the kitchen junk drawer for the lighter and remembered to breathe.

I couldn’t say his name again. If he didn’t answer, I didn’t know what I’d be able to do. I put all my panic into one task: burning the “spontaneous Saturday morning fun.”

Lighter in hand, I jogged to the brick fire place.

It moved again. And it had eyes. Before I could anchor my eyes on the brick, I found my gaze pulled to the tabletop.

My muscles seized up. Momentum carried me onward. I tumbled over my frozen foot. My gaze was anchored on the puzzle as I fell into the brick.

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Answer to Saturday’s riddle:

The letter “m.”