I do not have the temperment for jigsaw puzzles. (Stella loves them.) Frankly, they annoy me. And I find that funny because I made up a trope years ago, All is in pieces anyway. People find that annoying. They don’t grok the house behind the house. “What does that mean?” they ask. I grow tired.
And here’s the magic. I figure I can put this puzzle together and, in the process, Stella’s body and soul will reunite in joyous communion. In other words, she will get well. There’s a name for this magic, but I can’t recall what it is.