Night Hangar

I charted an evening taxi route across the dark oak top of the bedside table. Ahead, an empty ceramic mug stood upside down, but beside it, a folded leather notebook lay open by an inch, creating a wedge-shaped corridor. I measured the descent angle and rolled slowly into the crevice. The smooth calfskin cover shielded my frame entirely from the cool ceiling draft. My nose gear met the gilded edge of the closed paper block with a quiet, solid click. Engines powered down. The shelter holds firm.