The first crash was accidental.
A boy sitting atop a tree, hidden in a tangled mess of browns and greens.
A girl lounging in the enormous roots of a tree that has been there since forever.
Bored out of his wits, he folded that awful piece of paper marked F-, and thus a paper airplane.
‘Blow, Blow, swish…’
“Fly away you blasted piece of paper and don’t come back until you give me an A+!”
Too concentrated on the pages sprawled on her lap, she didn’t notice the raging boy above her nor the blasted piece of paper falling unto her. (The raging boy will fall too. But that’s for later)
“Paper Airplane? People still make these?” She asked herself as she picked the folded plane that landed and obstructed her view of the anticipated chapter 12.
It was at that moment that she had to send it above where it came from and he looked down where it fell to.
He caught the returning paper plane. And with it his A+.
pass a note, send a message
pass a joke, send a poem
share a smile
The second crash was hopeful. (and extremely nerve-wrecking)
There was a frantic bird trapped inside his chest and her glowing smile from across the room didn’t help a bit in calming it down.
A step closer.
“Stay.”
A curious raise of a brow and a sweaty palm.
A paper pulled out of a pocket. No, it was a paper airplane.
‘Blow, Blow, Swish…’
A puzzled look and a nervous glance.
“Catch!”
A failed catch, the paper plane lands at her feet.
“Go on. Read it.”
A questioning stare. A determined stance.
Seconds of awkward (for her), terrifying (for him) silence that felt like an eternity.
A deep breath and an unspoken reply.
It started with an I and end with You. In between there was love.
“Yes… and me, you.” she said
A relieved sigh, an embarrassed giggle.
A thousand stampeding elephants trapped in a ribcage.
pass truths, send secrets
pass a heartache, send an apology
share eight-lettered sentences.
The third (and last) crash was Soul Shattering.
The last plane to crash wasn’t paper anymore.
The last paper plane travelled from another country, not from the opposite corner of the room.
The last paper plane she fetched from the mailbox, it did not land on her waiting palms.
The last paper airplane she read without him.
“Flying back to you.” -it said.
He didn’t. He crashed with the plane that wasn’t paper.
Krisna is originally from Davao del Sur and currently studying Architecture at UP Mindanao.