the rest of the house is dark and silent. a pool of light encircles us, sitting at the kitchen table. paper is strewn across the table's surface, crumpled in balls in some cases. interspersed between the clean sheets of paper and the discarded balls of failure are the results of our last hour's merry-making: paper airplanes of different shapes and design, an origami frog, and a paper rose. i watch as he stands up and glides an airplane across the kitchen into the living room.