NOTE TO READER

WHEN I WOKE up the next morning, I was still in the kitchen, my face pressed against the island. The sun was shining through the open blinds, directly into my eyes.

I sat up and realized there was a puzzle piece stuck to my cheek. Carefully, as if removing a Band-Aid, I peeled it off.

It was a standard puzzle piece. With two pockets and two tabs. Gold. Probably part of C-3PO. I twirled the piece in my fingers, staring at it. The piece was so old, there were cracks in the cardboard on the back. Lots of cracks. They looked like lines.

No, wait.

They were lines. Pencil lines.

I was suddenly wide-awake. I scrambled around on the table, reaching for more pieces. There were two within hand’s reach. The first had nothing on its back. Just the cardboard, gray and faded with age.

The second had more pencil lines. As if someone had drawn them there on purpose.

I jumped up and switched on the overhead light, picking up the pieces, putting them into the lid of the box. One of them had a small N on it with an arrow pointing up. As if it were a compass rose. As if it were part of a map!

I searched under breakfast bar stools, under the TV, flipped through the recycling. One piece was in my tennis shoe, cuddled up under the tongue.

I dumped the pieces onto the table and started working. When I was done, Luke, the droids, Obi-Wan, and the Stormtroopers stared back at me.

I went to the recycling bin again and found an old cereal box. I ripped it open to make a huge cardboard spatula and slipped it carefully under the puzzle, turning it over.