Does David Like Flying?
David often stands by the window of his apartment in the evenings, watching planes cut through the sky. The way their lights twinkle before vanishing into the clouds makes him pause, as if he’s trying to catch the faint hum of their engines. When his little sister once asked, “Why do you stare at the sky so much?” he smiled and said, “There’s something about flying that feels like… freedom.”Last summer, we went to an airshow together. While most people oohed at the aerobatic stunts, David lingered by the vintage plane exhibit. He ran a finger over the propeller of a 1940s biplane, murmuring, “I’ve read about these. They could fly for hours, just gliding with the wind.” Later, when a pilot offered rides in a small Cessna, he didn’t hesitate. As the plane lifted off, I saw him press his hand to the window, grinning like a kid. “This is it,” he shouted over the engine. “This is what I love.”
He talks about flying like others talk about favorite books or songs. “It’s not just the act of being in the air,” he’d say, flipping through a aviation magazine at the café. “It’s the control—how you tilt the wings and suddenly you’re banking, or the way the world shrinks until houses look like toy blocks. I could do this every day.” Once, his cousin teased, “You’re obsessed. Do you even *like* anything else?” David just laughed. “Sure, but flying… it’s different. It’s like breathing, but better.”
Last week, I found him at the community library, hunched over a flight simulation game. “Trying to master takeoff,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen. “Virtual’s not the same, but it helps.” When I asked if he’d ever thought about getting a pilot’s license, he nodded. “Maybe someday. For now, I just… like flying, even if it’s just watching or pretending.”
So when someone asks, “Does David like flying?” the answer is in the way he tracks planes with his eyes, in the worn pages of his aviation books, in the smile that creeps in when he talks about being up there. It’s not “likes fly” or “likes to fly”—those sound off, like pieces of a puzzle forced into the wrong spots. It’s “like flying”—simple, certain, and as natural to him as the sky itself.