The piece that fitted

Text: an original contemporary personal-column-style practice extract.

At the back of the community hall, the jigsaw table looked like a task someone had abandoned. Blue pieces waited in shallow trays, while an unfinished border surrounded a large patch of bare wood. On the box, a lighthouse stood confidently in sunshine. On the table, there was mostly sky. People arriving for coffee glanced at the pieces and continued towards the safer territory of the chairs. A handwritten card said, “Please add a piece”, but its invitation seemed to whisper.

A child stopped beside the table. She tried a piece in one space, turned it twice and tried another. Her grandfather waited without offering advice. Then a small section of red roof clicked into place. “There.” The child’s voice made three people look round. A woman carrying a tray put it down and found part of a window. Someone else began searching for the lighthouse door. Within minutes, the silent table had gathered a crowd.

Nobody finished the jigsaw that morning. Gaps still broke up the sea, and half the lighthouse remained in its box. Yet the table no longer appeared abandoned. People discussed colours, passed pieces to strangers and promised to look again next week. The missing pieces had become reasons to return.