When he arrived, Ben
was already sat at the table folding a paper aeroplane. He took his seat and
watched his old friend creasing the middle at crooked angles. He couldn’t
remember ever showing Ben his technique for making aeroplanes, his old
technique.
‘Annabel managed it
then,’ Ben eventually said.
‘I suppose she did.’
‘Well, if she’s good at
anything, it’s manipulating. Always has been, you’ll remember.’
‘I didn’t know her very
well before.’
Ben glanced up. ‘A
master of manipulation. Or is it a mistress?’
‘Maybe madam.’
Ben laughed. ‘They’ve
got me bang to rights before you ask. I did it.’
‘But why did you do?’
‘He stole my dog tags;
beat the shit out of me with his mates. Then I saw him at the bus shelter. All
alone. I didn’t need more than that.’
There was a silence. He
tried not to look directly at Ben or his handcuffs. Instead he reached out for
the aeroplane. ‘May I?’
‘Go on then.’
He unfolded the wings
and then smoothed out the middle crease. He made the overall shape smaller but
lighter. When he was done he held it up.
‘But will it fly?’ Ben
said.
He
smiled.
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