The Last Paper Plane

On a golden summer afternoon, a boy named Aarav sat beneath the old mango tree in his village backyard. With nimble fingers, he folded a paper plane from his torn maths notebook—just like he used to when he was seven. That tree had seen his childhood games, his secret hideouts, and countless dreams written on crumpled sheets.

As he launched the paper plane into the sky, a memory returned—running with his best friend Ravi, barefoot and laughing, racing their planes across the wind. They had promised each other to fly real planes someday.But time had flown faster than their paper dreams. Ravi had moved to another city, and letters turned into silence.

Aarav picked up the plane from the grass, now a little dirt-stained. He smiled, eyes misty. That one paper plane brought back a whole world—sunny afternoons, mango-smeared cheeks, friendship bracelets, and the endless sky of childhood.

He whispered to the wind, “For you, Ravi.”And let the plane soar one more time—free, just like they were.