A/N: Sorry about the delay. Here's an extra long one shot for y'all! (Is it just me or did that sounded a tad wanky?) Anywayssss.

This was inspired by Paperman, an animated short by Disney. If you haven't seen it yet, I recommend so! It's on Youtube & the music is just incredible. Not to mention the mix of 3D animation & 2D animation was breathtaking. But I won't geek out on you now.

This prompt doesn't have a theme, it was just a spur of the moment.

Hope you guys enjoy! More one-shots to come.

Review, like, follow, whatever floats your boat! (Although criticism & thoughts are much appreciated.)


Paper airplanes are from the heart. When you give one out, it's like you're offering a part of you to that somebody, a small piece of yourself that you're willing to share.

Santana hadn't known that when she was nearing 8 years old and sitting in an overly-stuffy classroom while the teacher tried to teach them all addition and subtraction. The reason behind the paper airplane that was now sitting at her small desk was quite simple, really. It was because she had been bored out of her mind, her only distraction being the blank sheet of paper she was supposed to be practicing her additions on. The airplane was a pretty good one, if she did say so herself. Proud, Santana wondered if it could fly just as well as it had looked.

And in that moment of questioning, an opportunity arose as the teacher walked out of the room, saying something about forgetting to photocopy their worksheets and would be right back, and that the class had better behave itself because the photocopier was just across their room.

Smirking, Santana drew the airplane in her hand back, getting it ready for takeoff. She counted down in her mind, her smirk growing larger by the second.

..10

Paper airplanes may lead you to the most strange places.

9..

If you followed it, it might just lead you to the right person.

..8

And even if you're about to give up, it'd form an army and wrestle you to your destiny.

7..

Your fate.

..6

And like everything else, it changes and slams into you when you least expected it to.

5..

That day, 8 year-old Santana had made sure that the airplane would go straight into the waste basket right beside her teacher's desk.

..4

In fact, she took pride in her aim.

3..

One eye squinted, waste basket in sight.

..2

It's close, it can make it. This airplane would fly gracefully.

1..

She lets go of the plane almost joyously, laughing a little bit as she did so. It's flying, taking it's course almost gracefully, and Santana can't help but beam.

Then it changed it's course.

0.

/

Santana really didn't mean for it to happen, and her eyes went wide when the sudden breeze blew from the windows (why now, of all times? The scorching sun that didn't even help the stuffy air in the classroom hadn't permitted nice things like warm summer breezes) and changed her airplane's course.

She blamed it on mother nature.

(Later, Santana learned to thank it.)

It flew almost swiftly and softly nudged someone's head, someone who had been sitting just a desk away from her. Santana strained her neck to see who it was, but all she saw from behind Mike's freakishly large head was a mess of blonde hair; golden and shining like the sun's.

(Except not like Lima's scorching and angry sun. Santana just didn't know how to describe it at the time.)

Santana had wanted to walk over and just take the paper airplane back without explanation or an apology. After all, it was an accident. It was supposed to land in the waste basket.

Santana leaned until she almost fell off her seat, and she finally caught a good view of the blonde. She watched and watched as the girl picked up her paper airplane and inwardly flinched as she prepared to be yelled at or punched by said blonde girl. Or both. Santana doesn't receive neither of these reactions. Instead, she watched in awe as the blonde girl grinned and picked up her paper airplane, turning her head to see who had thrown it.

That was when Santana met her eyes. Beautiful, bright blue eyes that was like the sky, which seemed fitting to Santana because her hair was the sun. It twinkled and danced and took even the then 8 year-old Santana's breath away.

She could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks as the blonde girl grinned at her - bright white teeth and all - and waved her paper airplane at her. Santana's eyes widened as the blonde hopped off her chair and approached her desk, arms swinging with a slight skip to her steps.

"I think you dropped this," the blonde says, placing the airplane lightly on Santana's desk.

8 year-old Santana is speechless, which was rare even then. All she does is stare at the paper airplane that was now on her desk. She gulped, looking up and meeting the other girl's eyes. "You can keep it."

Bright blue eyes widened. "Really?"

Santana nods.

The blonde girl snatched away the airplane almost instantly, and offers out a hand. "I'm Brittany." She grins again.

Oddly enough, Santana found herself grinning back and taking Brittany's hand for a shake. "Santana."

/

They're lying on the grass of Brittany's backyard in silence, taking in each other and sharing the comfortable silence until Santana breaks it.

"BrittBritt?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you do when you're sad?"

Brittany looks over to Santana, concern in her eyes. "Are you sad, San?"

"Just a bit."

"Why?"

Santana shrugs, and Brittany doesn't push it any further.

"I look at stars," Brittany admits, her voice soft and small. "I'd lie here whenever I'm sad and look at stars and think of things that makes me happy."

"What do you think about?"

Brittany smiles. "Paper airplanes."

/

They were 15 when the lines between friend or something more blurred and confused them both; Santana, because to her, the possibility of something more meant something she wasn't ready to accept yet, and Brittany, because she didn't know what being something more meant.

"Does that mean we're girlfriends?"

The question caught Santana off guard. "What?"

It had been a normal evening between the both of them; as normal as it could be with the both of them cuddled together on the couch watching Sweet Valley High and occasionally sneaking kisses. "Girlfriends. Like, two girls who date. It's allowed, you know," Brittany said casually, her fingers tracing hearts on Santana's arms and making her shiver.

"How would you know?" Then, suddenly realizing where Brittany could possibly require such information, she sat up and pulled herself away from Brittany's embrace to stare at her. "You didn't tell anyone about us, did you?"

Brittany shook her head. Then, after a while, she said, "I asked Lord Tubbington, but I used a cover. I said I was asking for a friend, but he just told me to google it and went back to smoking his cigar and flirting with the neighbor's cat."

Santana scrunched up her nose. "The hairless one that Mrs. Toby owns?"

"Yeah."

"She's way out of his league," Santana deadpanned, settling back in Brittany's arm.

And that was that.

/

They never got to figure it all out for themselves, because that was their last summer spent together.

/

"Santana?" They were on the swings of their favorite park, swaying back and forth in the slightest motion. Santana knows Brittany is suspecting something, and it still sort of freaked her out how well the blonde could read her. "Is everything okay?"

No, everything was not.

She hated Lima, sure. She hated it's scorching hot sun and how everyone seemed to know everyone. But what Santana hated the most was that she hated the fact that she was actually, honestly, leaving Lima. Because leaving Lima meant leaving Brittany.

Santana glares at the concrete. She refused to look up at those sea blue eyes.

"San?"

Nope. Not even a peek.

"We don't have to talk right now, San, what about we go get ice cream first?" Santana could almost see the glint in Brittany's eyes. "My mom gave me ten dollars before I came. We can share a whole banana split and still have some money left to buy Dots later."

Santana finally gave up and reluctantly looked up, and sure enough, Brittany was smiling ear to ear, and it was enough for her to spill the news she learned just last night. "I'm moving."

Brittany perked up and sat up straighter on her swing. "Which house?"

Santana cringed at Brittany's hopefulness, because they had been talking about how great it'd be if they were neighbors and didn't live 3 blocks away from each other. "California," Santana heard herself say, and went back to glaring at the concrete. She readied herself for the disappointed sigh, the look of sadness, or something amongst those lines. But she doesn't get any of these things.

Instead, she sees a hand outstretched in front of her face. She looked up to meet Brittany's eyes; and they still shone and danced, even if Santana could still see a hint of sadness. The smile was still there; the smile that Santana had loved so much.

Brittany's nose scrunched up a bit, considering something, before speaking. "I think we should get a sundae instead."

Santana laughed, throwing her head back and wiping away a few stray tears, and took Brittany's hand, allowing the blonde to pull her up from the swing.

They walked away from the park, still holding hands, until Santana remembered something else and playfully bumped Brittany on her hips. "I think I'll like banana splits better, Britt."

And then, out of pure bravery and the feeling of doing something right from all the wrongs in her life, she kissed Brittany on the cheeks and lingered there.

/

Santana's room was empty; the posters that once plagued her wall were gone and boxes replaced the spot that used to be where her bed was. Santana wanted to look away from it all, but at the same time, she couldn't stop looking. She doesn't think Brittany could, either.

"Your room is really neat, San," Brittany whispered almost inaudibly. "Neater than all the times I slept over."

They were standing at the door way, side by side, and taking everything in.

Empty, empty, empty.

"I never knew my walls were yellow," Santana whispered back.

"Me neither."

Suddenly a rustling noise coming from beside her made her turn to look at Brittany. She was rummaging through her travel bag, the one she always had on throughout the whole summer, murmuring something all the while.

"Britt?"

Brittany hummed a little, but still didn't look up.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something, I got you a gift."

Santana nodded almost reluctantly, and went back to staring at her empty room.

"Here it is!" Santana turned, and in Brittany's hands was a paper airplane, crinkled and worn. "It's the one that hit my head when I was trying to do addition!" She studied it for a while, turning it around in her hands, and Santana couldn't do anything but stare in disbelief. "My mom used to say that paper airplanes were made because people wanted to fly and give other people messages from their heart. I don't know how to make one, so I figured I'd just give this one back instead."

Santana tilted her head. "But wouldn't that be giving my message from the heart back instead?"

Brittany laughed, "I guess so, San." Her eyes twinkled. "What if you teach me how to make one so then I'd get to keep this one, and you get to have my very first message from the heart."

"Deal."

They spend the rest of the day searching for unused paper and making paper airplanes, laughing and running around like they were 8 years old again. They hid around corners and sneaked in kisses and lingering touches, casting each other shy and knowing glances.

"I'm going to miss you."

"Me too."

Santana knows she should say something - anything - about their situation, about keeping in touch, about anything that would reassure the both of them.

But all that was too late now, because just as Santana opened her mouth to speak, her parents suddenly showed up and started bidding Brittany goodbye.

/

As Santana drove farther and farther away from Lima, she slowly realizes that she may be in love with Brittany and that she'll probably never see her again.


New York was always crowded with people, always moving, always changing. It was a place where destiny and fate fell hand in hand, where dreamers can dream and make those dreams true.

Brittany's first thought as she stepped out of her cab and into Time Square was that she's quite sure she's never seen that many billboards and shiny signs together all at once. Her second thought was that she's pretty sure nothing moves as fast as New York.

/

It was Santana's favorite place in the world. It was where the lyrics and the music all came together, where artists live and thrive. It was where she got her big break, where she recorded her very first album, where she received the news that one of her songs were #1 on the charts.

But then again, you could almost argue that no, New York wasn't Santana's favorite place in the world, because the one person she's been looking for all her life wasn't in New York. But maybe she was. Santana doesn't know anything, but she should really move on from running after flashes of blonde hair on the subways.

She cursed at herself as she strolled through Central Park, Starbucks in hand and scolded herself for running out the damn subway because she was sure those blonde hair matched bright blue eyes.

How long had it been?

5 years, at the least. Give or take a few.

Which was stupid, because Santana was prone to forgetting things and people she's met (she still couldn't remember half the names of the people who were on her high school cheer team), but she's never been able to forget those piercing and laughing blue eyes.

She eyes the people holding hands and gushing at each other.

Santana decides right then that she hated parks.

/

Central Park. Were there even ducks here? Brittany skipped through the park, a flyer about some ballet show in her one hand and her luggage in toll in the other. She had wanted to go straight to her new apartment after Time Square, but as she hailed another taxi she decided another detour wouldn't hurt.

She wonders if a brunette she's known so long ago was here. Which would completely make sense if she didn't find her anywhere when she was in LA dancing. She'd always imagine Santana somewhere big and fast with tall buildings and lots and lots of cars. She just wanted to know how Santana was doing.

Her eyes immediately flew to the flyer in her hand.

Paper airplanes are from the heart.

She wonders briefly what would happen if-

Sometimes, if you follow them, they'd lead you to your destiny.

She sat down on a near by bench, looked at the paper in front of her, and racked her brain trying to remember just exactly how Santana had taught her to make airplanes.

Sometimes they lead you to the strangest places whether you liked it or not.

Maybe she shouldn't think. Just... Fold it in half and a fold there-

And sometimes they change their course and smack you in the face so hard you fall backwards and can't get up again in a long time.

Another one right.. There.

But if you're lucky, it'll lead you somewhere as wonderful as that place beyond rainbows.

Brittany stared at the paper airplane in her hand. It looked a bit dysfunctional, but maybe it could still fly anyways..

Counting down, Brittany readied herself and her plane.

10..

On the other side of Central Park, a brunette played with her empty coffee cup, contemplating on whether to stay or leave for her studio.

..9

After all, doesn't she have that new back up dancer coming in? Quinn's gonna be pissed if she's late for the meeting.

8..

But Santana couldn't really bring herself to even go to work, so she huffed and walked on.

7..

She walked and walked and she thought about things. She thought about 8 year old Brittany and all the other things in between. She thought about their friendship and wondered what would've happened if she'd stayed in Lima.

..6

She wondered how Brittany's been. After all, she only wanted to reunite with her childhood friend. She wanted to talk and catch up with Brittany's life.

5..

It's a strange urge, for Santana knew Brittany so long ago, but the bubbly blonde had made her mark and place in Santana's heart, and Santana just couldn't quite forget.

..4

Santana thinks about paper airplanes.

3..

Broken promises.

..2

Fate and destiny disguised as accidents.

1..

Just as Santana pass the rows and rows of benches of Central Park, too indulged in her thoughts to even notice her surroundings, a certain blonde released a paper airplane and watched it soar through the sky.

0.

Fate was not in play that day.

/

Brittany huffed in annoyance as she tried for the billionth time to hail a taxi.

This was New York. This taxi thing shouldn't be that hard, right? You just raise your hand all cool and stuff and whistle and yell in a loud, demanding voice, "Taxi!"

Wrong.

Or at least, it may be wrong.

Maybe Brittany was just doing it wrong.

Maybe you don't really whistle or yell, because no one could really hear you in the busy New York City traffic anyways.

Brittany tried again, raising her hand and without whistling this time, yelled, "Taxi!" with a little jump.

Lo and behold, a shiny yellow cab stopped in front of her, and she stepped towards it proudly, going to the trunk and throwing her luggage in there. She opened the passenger door and got in the backseat just as someone else opened the car door from the other side.

That was when Brittany's eyes met soulful brown ones.

/

Electric blue eyes. Golden blonde hair.

This can't actually be happening right now.

Santana froze for a minute, unable to take her eyes away from the blonde before her. She's afraid that it's Brittany. She's terrified that it's not.

So she murmurs a quick sorry and was about to slam the car door close and hurl herself in front of the oncoming traffic of New York before the blonde stopped her.

"No worries, we can share the cab. Where are you going?"

She gives the blonde a look, got in the cab, and sighed. She slams the door close. "The One Day studio on Broadway and 49th. But we can head to wherever you're going first."

Blondie grins, and Santana could swear some serious de ja vu was happening. "Looks like we're going to the same place."

Santana nods and tried to avoid looking at those damn blue eyes. She's over this. She's better than this. She's not going to ask for the blonde's name because what if it's not Brittany? The woman sure did looked like Brittany though, but at the same time, she didn't. The blonde beside Santana right now had legs that could go on for days and possibly a body of a goddess.

Santana tried not to stare.

She forced herself to look out the window and the cars whizzing pass them. She tried to figure out just exactly how many more minutes she has before she can get out of this cab and away from this blonde as much as possible. Because she made Santana nervous. She made Santana go back to the time of paper airplanes and keeping promises.

"So, how long have you been living in New York?"

Santana cleared her throat. She kept her gaze out the window and the shops that were passing by. "Five years, give or take a few."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Silence hung in the air.

Santana wanted to ask her name. She wanted to know the blonde, wanted to sit closer, wanted to find out about her.

But this was dumb and cheesy and predictable and the blonde beside her is most certainly not Brittany. After all, in a city of thousands of people, there could be hundreds of blondes with electric blue eyes.

It was impossible for the blonde beside her to be Brittany. It wasn't Brittany.

So the silence stayed for the rest of the cab ride.

/

Brittany stepped out the cab, grateful that she's finally away from the awkward silence that had taunted her. She handed the cab driver a twenty and thanked him, closing the car door and heading to the trunk.

"Do you need help with that?"

And there she was again. Brittany almost forgot that the Latina beside her was going to the same place she was.

Her new apartment was just beside the famous One Day studio, though Brittany had never heard of it. Tina, her best friend, had gushed to her about some famous singer that recorded her songs there. Brittany didn't really know. She hadn't been listening.

Brittany suddenly remembered te brunette next to her. She gulped back the urge to ask her her name, because what if she wasn't really Santana? "No." Brittany cleared her throat. "No, it's fine."

She managed a smile at the short Latina, hauled her bags out, and walked away.

Brittany thinks about paper airplanes and fate, and she couldn't resist the urge of looking at the gorgeous Latina one last time. She turned around to face her, and called out, "Thanks for sharing a cab with me!"

The Latina waved and shot her a smile. "Welcome to New York!"

Brittany lets out a small laugh at the brunette.

Perhaps Santana was somewhere else far, far away from New York, happy and thriving and completely unaware of the existence of her.

After all, childhood friends were just that, childhood friends.

With that thought clear in her mind, Brittany turned to face her apartment building.

/

Why were business meetings necessary? What's Rachel blabbering on about?

Santana watches in a daze as Rachel Berry droned on and on about publicity and Santana's summer tour and her next possible album.

God, sometimes Santana wishes she could just mute the girl.

"Santana?"

Her mind went back to the cab ride earlier this morning that made her late for this meeting. But it wasn't a big deal, since the new backup dancer for her summer tour wouldn't be coming in until late this afternoon. Something about a delayed flight.

Santana let her mind wander to electric and soft blue eyes and luscious golden hair.

"Santana!"

Santana jumped from her seat. "Huh?"

Standing in front of her, Rachel seemed to be fuming. Quinn, who was seated beside Santana, snorted. "Someone got some last night."

"Fuck you, Fabray."

"It certainly wasn't me you fucked."

Rachel stared in disbelief. "Were the two of you listening to me at all?"

Quinn nods. Santana shook her head.

Rachel glared at Santana. "As your manager, Santana, I'm obliged to get and provide you information so you'll be better prepared with what's coming next. But if you won't listen, I might as well be singing instead!"

"Oh come on Rach, we all know you sing as well as-"

"Barbra Streisand? Why yes, Santana; my girlfriend is very talented."

Santana kicked Quinn under the table. She shot her a look. /Don't you dare encourage her, Fabray./

Rachel huffed in annoyance. "Whatever, Santana. This meeting's over anyways. The backup dancer should be coming in soon. So prepare for another meeting. Or you can leave, Santana, since you obviously don't care about-"

"Hello?"

Rachel shot up from her small rant and turned to the doorway, where the greeting was heard. Santana didn't bother looking up. She was too busy folding a paper airplane from one of the contracts that was useless to piss Rachel off.

"Brittany!"

Santana stopped midfold. She looked up to see blonde hair flying and Rachel tackling Brittany for a hug.

"Hi, Rachel. I'm surprised you didn't end up on Broadway."

"It was nice of you to visit, Brittany. And yeah, but I found out yelling at people and bossing them around was more my forte. Don't worry, I still sing."

"So, I hear you were looking for a backup dancer?"

Rachel laughed. "You haven't changed a bit, Britt."

Santana was confused. How did the loud female version of Bilbo know Brittany? Was this Brittany? As in the Brittany used to stare up at stars and thought about paper airplanes when they were sad?

Then, from beside her, Quinn cleared her throat.

Rachel jumped. "Oh! Britt, this is my girlfriend and partner, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn gave a little wave. "So you're the new backup dancer Rachel was so excited about, huh?"

How come Rachel never mention her name? Or maybe Santana just hadn't been listening. But could she blame her? Rachel was as dry as the blazing sun back in Lima.

"Brittany here has danced for Beyonce herself. And she owns her own studio in LA with Mike."

Beyonce.

For the second time that day, Santana felt like flinging herself in front of moving cars of the streets of New York.

She stood up and speed walked out of the meeting room, speeding past Rachel and Brittany.

"What are you doing?" Rachel yelled just as Santana was half way down the hall that lead towards the rec room. Santana! I haven't even introduce you yet!"

Santana cringed at the way Rachel yelled her name. No way could she fake it now. "I'm gonna grab a coffee!" she yelled back, and walked on.

What if Brittany didn't remember her at all? This was stupid.

Santana couldn't clear her mind. So she poured herself a cup of scorching hot black coffee and stayed in the rec room, trying to find the courage of going back in the small and stuffy meeting room.

/

A paper airplane sat on the meeting room table. Slowly, Brittany walked over to it and picked it up. She stared at it, bouncing it a little with her hand.

Rachel looked over her shoulder. "Damn it! She didn't make another airplane out of one of those old contracts, did she? I swear, one day-"

"Where's the rec room?"

"It's down the hall, just turn right. Is there something you need, Britt? Cause I can have Quinn get it for you."

Brittany shook her head, turned, and walked out the meeting room, ignoring the look of bewilderment on Rachel's face.

/

What should she say?

Hi, I'm Santana Lopez, and I've been looking for you for half my life!

Santana paced back and forth, trying to cool herself and get her thoughts straight, but her mind was a mess and it felt like she was standing right next to the sun. Santana doesn't know how to go back out there.

Santana considered just staying in the rec room forever. Until something hit her on the back side of her head.

Stunned, she turned around and was about to lash out on Quinn or whoever else that threw whatever it was at her head when her eyes met twinkling blue ones. And then Santana realized it was the woman she had shared a cab with earlier. It was the woman she'd been trying to find. The girl she fell in love with.

Santana looked down and by her feet was a paper airplane. The one she made earlier when she had been thinking about Brittany and ways to piss Rachel off. She leaned down and picked it up. She offered it back to the blonde with outstretched arms. "I think you dropped something."

Brittany stepped forward. "You can keep it."

Santana stared at the paper airplane in her hands, and upon further inspection, she realized this wasn't the one she'd made earlier. This was a brand new one. "You know, someone once told me paper airplanes were made because people had wanted to fly and give others messages from the heart."

Brittany giggled. "She sounds smart."

"She is. Genius, actually."

"It's nice to see you."

"Was that your message from the heart?"

Brittany laughed and shook her head. "I missed you."

Santana nods and a smile slowly formed on her face. "Me too."

/

Santana stood by the doorway leading up to the roof, mesmerized by the way Brittany's hair flew gently against the warm New York breeze and how beautiful she looked under the Christmas lights Santana had made Rachel and Quinn put up with her. The paper airplane in her hands flapped gently against the wind, reminding Santana why she invited Brittany up here in the first place.

This would work.

10..

Sometimes you have to chase your fate in order for it to find you.

..9

And sometimes we forget that, because for so long we've been waiting for that one person.

8..

The thing is, fate is only in play for the beginning, the rest you have to chase.

..7

To capture.

6..

Like paper airplanes, fate could only fly for so long.

..5

Messages from the heart would eventually become real kisses and burning touches.

4..

Like paper airplanes, everything in life was unpredictable.

..3

Sometimes it flies straight, and sometimes it glides against the wind.

2..

And other times, it doesn't fly at all.

..1

Like paper airplanes, nothing goes the way anyone planned, and it had nothing to do with fate or destiny. It had everything to do with bravery to grasp at chances, to embrace change, to chase after dreams.

Fate was just the beginning, and for Santana and Brittany, paper airplanes began it all.

0.

Santana's grin widened as the paper airplane hit the back of a certain blonde's head.

(Silently, Santana thanks mother nature.)

/

Brittany turned around and giving Santana a look of confusion, Brittany bent down to pick up the airplane. Scribbled on the wings of the airplane were the words "Open me!"

She stared up at Santana, eyebrows furrowed and smiling a little at the huge and nervous grin Santana had plastered on her face.

Slowly and carefully, Brittany opened up the paper airplane.

Two words stared back at her, scrawled neatly in Sharpie; a simple question.

A message from the heart.

A promise for the future.

Marry me?

(Brittany tackles Santana before she even had the chance to kneel down and offer her a ring.)

(And to Santana's immense relief and happiness, Brittany had said yes.)

/

Paper airplanes might not have been the best metaphor in life, but in a way, it sort of was.

Paper airplanes were simple things. They soar with the wind and capture imagination. Yet paper airplanes were complex things, because really, who figured out how to fold the paper? They speak for our hopes and dreams. Our connection with each other; because honestly, who in their life have never made a paper airplane?

It's something so trivial, yet something we all share. And like that old Chinese legend about red strings and soul mates, perhaps paper airplanes were the same. Perhaps we're all connected by paper airplanes dancing in the wind and lost in the skies.

When you let your hope and love and happiness soar, maybe you'll find that one person.

But then the rest is up to you.

Because paper airplanes could only fly for so long, but your strength and courage and love is forever. Grasp on to it. Hope for it. Fight for it.

So here's my message to you from the heart, a million paper airplanes from me to you: chase after them.

You never know what you'll find at the other end.

/

fin.