Pulling his attention completely away from her, he continued sifting with his hands through the massive pile of puzzle pieces, searching for his own missing piece that would fill a curving bit of wave from the river. She had been given her assignment, the corner of a windmill blade, and was now on her own. Like a child, she had little patience, thinking it was just beginning, the long search, thinking there was time for trying, time for mistaking. He began mumbling to himself as he tried several bits of water against the wave. None of them worked. She traced her open space with her finger, memorizing its shape. She held a couple pieces up to the light and hummed happily. In the living room some quiet fighting resumed between two younger boys. The fat girl and the oldest boy on the couch continued watching the kitchen where their sister and father sat like known characters in a new play, outlined by a plaster archway. The girl continued chewing her teddy-bear, and the boy his lip, but he sat back now, resting his shoulders on the cushion and kicking one foot in the air off his crossed knee. Her father was becoming frustrated. She could feel it from him. She touched his arm. He mumbled something incredulous about the manufacturer. She set a piece aside and excused herself to get a glass of water. When she sat back down she gulped the water furiously, like she hadn't had a drink