Paper Phone — Episode 3

Isn't this supposed to be seventy bucks? Here. That's fifteen back. Keep it safe.

Your grandma, already paid. This phone, we'll burn it for her.

This one, keep for yourself. Now you two can call often. Nights rise, mornings shine,

planes one by one, stepping on clouds, blowing air, swaying as if in a dream. Fly, fly, my little plane.

Once time wind chimes, return to the old house. Fly, fly, the long-lasting army plane. Don't fear the rain of wind chimes; clouds will soon depart. Go tell Grandma for me,

that I miss her.