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“From my house. My future house, I mean. I figured my older self wouldn’t mind me taking some paper.” I can’t believe he’s doing this right now. But as he creases and folds, I find I can’t pull my eyes away, hypnotized by his long fingers patiently working on the paper. In a minute he’s made a tiny origami boat. He offers it to me. “Hold this.”“What…?” I take it, resting the silver ship on my palm. It looks sort of like a triangular party hat. It’s pretty cute, but it’s not as impressive as the unicorn he made me (twice). “My mom’s the one who first taught me how to make origami.” He whips out a sheet of gold paper and begins to fold another boat for himself. “I was about seven or eight. She found me crying on the back porch, sitting in the pouring rain, because some kids had beat me u
- Writer
