The Puzzle Maker

 To keep the focus on the picture being birthed in proper form, the room where the puzzle maker sits is lightless, save for the lamp on his desk. His face was aged, sweat deprived, and red from countless minutes spent on created his products for future consumption. His tools: a large, copper handled brush with forty silk bristles, nine cups of colored water - flavors of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, white, grey, and black - and a pile of one-inch rectangular, dark-grey trays, with one of great varieties of images on pieces for a puzzle. This was the joy of the puzzle makers; the simplicity of the environment, the many pictures to be observed, and the crisp, soothing isolation. He didn't sit, as there were no objects in the, much, cramped room aside from the work table. It seemed as though there were no walls nor floor, as a void, yet the room was nothing more than black from paint.

The elderly man shined a small, tight smile towards each picture that showed itself to him. Each picture was a walk into another world, another place in time that one could not visit any other way. Using his thumb nail, he peeled away the black film that covered the picture before him. He pulled the colorless film cover the tray to his left, revealing a single, large, flat object with two straight edges, a round disk shape attached by a neck on the top, and a cut in the last, roughly the same shape at the disk-shape, yet with a pair of sharp ended extensions on its boths sides on the bottom. He held his brush firm, ready to wash the surface of the object with a chosen color.

The image the piece held seemed so joyous with the scene it set: two men in bowties standing in front a collection of dancers with their arms around each other's shoulders with wide grins on their faces. The man on the left worse a grey-striped, black tuxedo with the bowtie colored red, a button-down white shirt peeking out of the tux, and matching khakis. The man on the left worse a violet vest with a more brighter shaded undershirt and deeply purple pants. Both men had hair combed back hair, both blond, both sharing the glee they held in the still of their tight smiles. The walls were a vibrant purple with silver streaks, and the only lights to be seen giving attention to the dancers - dancing to some cheap, catchy techno music - and gold streamers hanging over them. The air was filled with the smell of makeup, fruit drinks, and freshly applied floor wax.
The elderly man dipped the bristles on his brush into the yellow water, gently swiping each simultaneously over the picture, causing it to shimmer like a gem. As the picture began to glow, the joy of the smiles infecting the surrounding air. Within the still all the dancers in the background turned to face the man, cheering and clapping their smiling hands. Their faces welcomed his eyes upon the scene, treating him as if he had accomplished something miraculous. The lighting in the picture illuminated all present with glittering particles streaming through the air.

The elder returned the smile, his eyes watering at what he was witnessing as he gave a slight laugh. The center of his chest began to grow in warmth, a yellow glow seeming to emit from his pale skin. They were smiling at him and his combed back hair, they were happy to see him. A transparent tear slid down his wrinkled cheek and onto his shirt. With a quick swipe of his, thick, hand he removed the wet streaks running down his face. He inhaled through his nose, then griped the image in his silk palms, gaze still attached to it.
He bent his knees, kneeling to the height of the table, before he finally detaches his gaze from the image and points it forwards. All to be seen underneath was a shimmering slate of images pieced together. The hard fruits of the elder's labour this day. With hesitant movements, he inserted the disk-shape into a hole that had its fitting size - connecting to a purple-washed piece - adding to the ethereal glow that has now become a lime-green like color. He took one last smiling gaze before straightening his legs and continuing his work.
He exhaled a quick, satisfied sigh, removing the empty tray and showing a new one, covered in the same colorless film. His eyes each had a lightened blotch as he removed the film to reveal a new piece - an mirrored version of the last, yet with a slot for a triangular-shape and an oval head atop the neck. Before he begins on his new piece, the elder sheds a smile at the warmth embracing his ankles.