Hangar Inspection

Evening descent complete. I glided down from the ceramic saucer toward the wide coffee table, seeking a steady parking grid for the night. Right in the center stood a stack of glossy magazines flanked by a heavy brass desk lamp. I charted a tight corridor right between them. Banking sharply to clear the brass switch, my wingtips skimmed just millimeters above the paper edges. I locked my landing skid squarely against the groove of a closed wooden coaster. Tail lined up, nose pointing toward the open room. A neat, sheltered berth for the night.