"Piece" by IceSabre

The legs of the chair scraped over the vinyl as he pulled on it, quickly sliding it from beneath the battered table.  Once out, he lowered himself onto its unforgiving surface, stretching his legs full length in front of him, his arms crossed defensively.

The light was dim and he took his time studying the puzzle.  It was complete, the pieces locked together in a perfect fit.  Still beautiful, but it was gathering dust and he wanted something more.

The new one sat in its cardboard cube, inviting, ready to be opened and explored.  He carefully slid the old one to the side before slipping the cellophane off the new box.

Such a nice picture.  He ran his hand over the glossy photo before prying the lid with his fingernail.  This one would take time, but he had lots of it now, more than he knew what to do with in fact.  The other one was finished and it was  a lovely sight, but he was restless, always, always, looking for more.

He picked up the first piece and laid it down in the center of the table and quickly reached for another.  He could smell the newness.  The beginning was always the best, the freshness almost intoxicating.  It was the journey that mattered.  To him anyway.  The first pieces always went together easily and this one was no different.  He came to life again, like a plant being watered.

Out of the corner of his eye he spied the one he had willfully pushed to the side.  It was still beautiful and he liked it, but it had lost a bit of its luster and it seemed to be getting in the way.  It was distracting him and he didn’t know what to do.  How could he get rid of something so nice, so perfect.

He held still for a moment trying to harness his thoughts before suddenly removing a piece straight out of the middle.  Ah, not so perfect anymore.  He pulled up a few more pieces and the picture began to fade.  How remarkably easy it was to do this, to alter the image to suit his plan.  Just a slight of hand, a trick of the mind was all it took.  But he still trembled while he pried away at the rest.  He stared at the image and watched it weaken even further.  Before he knew it, it was nearly disassembled.  Once whole, now vestigial remains.  It was easy to change what it once was, to what it is now.  He felt strong and pressed on.

It was nearly gone now, completely unrecognizable to what it really was and he decided to go ahead and do it.  It would be easy to move on with no remorse, regret, or even sorrow now.  “Look at it,” he said to himself out loud, “It’s nothing to me, nothing at all.”  With one swift slide of the arm, the remaining pieces flew across the room landing here and there.

There was a time when he would pick up the pieces, at least attempting to put them back into their box, attempting to put them away for safekeeping, but not anymore.  Now he just let them pile up at his feet where he’d shuffle through them like they never even existed.  Afraid they’d somehow put themselves back together again behind his back if he took too much care.  So he didn’t.  Out of sight, out of mind.  But like a burr on his sock, they lingered.

The bulb in the lamp finally burned out and darkness encroached.  It was done, he had finally gotten rid of it.  In the dimness, he reached into the new box to pull out a few more pieces to begin his new project, his new quest, and without warning, the Brown Recluse bit him.  A network of lines traveled across his face.