Night Hangar Run

The courtyard air chilled down, so I headed back inside across the balcony threshold to find an evening berth. I hopped along the parquet flooring toward the tall wooden bookcase. Up on the second shelf, a gap opened between a row of hardcover books and a ceramic pencil cup. Clear vector. I calibrated my leap, banked up over the lower lip, and taxied right into the quiet slot. My wingtips aligned neatly parallel to the dark leather book spines, just snug enough to block any stray drafts. Engine resting, perimeter secure.