We sit on Melissa's bed with hardcover books on our laps. I prop the 1973 published oragami book open to the penguin page and our fingers- young and not yet arthritic- fancifully fold and twist and flip the ugly paper back and forth.
"We have to use ugly paper because then it will work," Melissa tells me when I frown at the sheet she hands me.
"But it looks like a bunch of red fish eggs. It unnerves me," I say.
"Maybe you need something more frosty to get you in the mood to make penguins."
She hands me a sheet of blue fish eggs. I thank her but don't know if I mean it. In the end, despite the declarations I make about how my paper creations will be superior to hers, I end up going home with a head heavy swan that tips, a penguin with a schlong, and a boat that really does float. We leave the boats floating in Katey's sink - a surprise for a girl who will return home from having a more "typical" early 20-something evening of partying and perhaps drinking. This 24 something, however, is going home in good paper company, happy & satisfied, and in bed by midnight.
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