A Click of the Propeller

A warm glow spilled down from the bright screen overhead, illuminating the dusty surface around my landing gear. When I blinked, my fingers flexed. Realizing I could move on my own, I reached forward over the plane's cowling and gave the yellow propeller blade a cautious flick. It spun cleanly with a light click, kicking up a tiny swirl of dust between my wheels. Pausing to check the mechanism, I reached out sideways and lightly tapped the smooth fender of the blue race car parked right beside my wing. It felt cool, solid, and entirely real.