Paper Wings

I hopped across from the sofa armrest onto the smooth timber of the coffee table. Resting flat across a glossy magazine was a folded paper airplane, its left wingtip slightly crumpled. I trotted over, braced both boots against the magazine cover, and ran my thumb along the bent fold until the crease snapped sharp and flat again. The wings leveled out into a clean delta. Lining up my stance right at the table's edge, I hauled the paper fuselage onto my shoulder and gave it a brisk, level heave. The glider caught the still air, dipped gently, and carved a wide, sweeping arc before skidding to a halt on the rug below.