Winged Launch

I marched up the granite steps of the arched footbridge, aiming straight for the highest crest. Resting along the sun-warmed stone balustrade was a dried maple samara, its papery wing curled and ready. My instincts took over immediately. I snapped the twin seeds apart, braced my boots on the rough masonry ledge, and launched the single propeller out over the open drop with a sharp flick of my wrist. The midday breeze caught the blade instantly. It spun into a rapid, golden blur, tracing a wide, dizzying spiral clean across the canal toward the far bank. Launching my own personal rotor into the blue—flawless flight.