The perfect paper airplane is a work of art.

This is something Jim Halpert knows well. He folds the page meticulously, channelling all his boredom into its sharp creases and precise angles. When it is finished, he holds it in his hands, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. Satisfied, he turns to the window of the high-rise office building, gazing out over the city of New York. He raises his hand, aims carefully out of the open window, and launches his creation into the sky.

It glides from the window, towards the pavement. Briefly, it passes into the view from Dwight Schrute’s binoculars, trained on Meredith Palmer as she smokes a cigarette on a park bench. The airplane’s sudden appearance startles Dwight, and he stumbles into a bush.

The plane catches the eye of Kevin Malone, who watches it curiously as he takes his first bite of the chocolate bar he’d been holding. As he allows himself this indulgence, the flight of the paper airplane is quickly forgotten.

It soars on, passing the window of the Two Windmills Café. Its owner, Oscar Martinez, doesn’t even notice its flight past him as he unlocks the door to get ready for the day’s customers. From a nearby building, Phyllis Vance emerges. The paper plane all but knocks her glasses from her face as it glides past her, cutting through the air like an arrow heading straight for its target.

A sudden gust of wind catches the plane, sending it soaring upwards, back towards the clouds. From his window, Michael Scott watches as the wind settles, and the plane can drift onwards. On the other side of the street, Kelly Kapoor doesn’t notice the plane as she hastily packs a suitcase, chattering idly into her mobile phone at someone who has long since stopped listening.

The paper plane descends from the skies, almost straight down. Angela Martin rolls her eyes at it as it passes her, sanitising her hands as she emerges from the subway. Beyond her, the plane dips down the stairs underground, passing a young businessman who is full of promise and ambition. In the same breath, it passes an older businessman who has all but given up on progressing in his career.

When the plane reaches the subway platform, it glides past a gentleman with his hand in an unsuspecting tourist’s pocket. It passes Toby Flenderson as he mutters a curse, realising that the perfect line of poetry he has written ends in the word ‘purple’, and will therefore be impossible to make rhyme, before drifting all the way to the end of the platform. The air of the subway is stuffy, not at all conducive to the flight of a paper airplane. It sinks to the ground, skidding a few metres before finally coming to a halt as it hits a young woman’s dazzling bright white tennis shoes.

Smiling, Pam Beesly picks up the plane, admiring the diligent work of its creator. It is the perfect paper airplane – a genuine work of art. Carefully, she folds its wings closed, and tucks it into the tattered sketchbook under her arm, before stepping onto her train.