Xavier leaned over the kitchen table, grinning at an octopus wearing roller skates. He had spent the morning assembling its underwater neighborhood, imagining eight slippery legs rolling past startled fish.
“Good luck stopping,” he told it.
Only one blue piece remained, but when he reached for it, his fingers found an empty table.
He searched the box, lifted his chair cushion, and crawled underneath the table, where he discovered three crumbs and a raisin he decided not to investigate.
Back in his chair, Xavier stared at the gap. “Well, that ruins it.”
He imagined sliding the unfinished puzzle back into its box and never bothering with it again. The morning suddenly felt wasted. Even the octopus looked annoying, standing there with all those shoes and absolutely no suggestions.
Xavier sat quietly for a while. Then he noticed one skate pointing backward.
He pictured the octopus trying to travel in eight directions at once, and a laugh slipped out.
The blue gap was still there.
That surprised him. A moment ago, the puzzle had seemed completely spoiled. Now it was funny again. First he had been caught up in an underwater adventure, then a ruined morning, and now a spectacular skating accident. Each had felt real while he was imagining it.
Maybe he didn’t have to pack everything away just because “ruined” had sounded so certain.
As he leaned back, something tugged at his elbow. He twisted his arm and found the missing piece stuck to his skin.
“Oh, so you’ve been helping.”
He peeled it off and fitted it into the gap. Before leaving the table, he inspected his other elbow.
One mystery raisin was quite enough. He wasn’t taking it with him.
Have you ever noticed something feel different before anything about the situation had changed?
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