Paper stood on the monastery balcony and raised his arms. The skin folded against his sides billowed out into a photon sail. Small freckles of green grew and darkened. He ran across the marble tiles, spinning and laughing, in the mid-day sun.
Aphrodite’s host body, cropped red hair glistening, stuck her head out the door. “Do you want some tea or me with that.”
“You know, I think I’m good. Today’s the first time since I left my home on Phobos station that I’ve gotten a good meal.”
The goddess reared back and threw the teapot at him. “Modern men!”