She sits at her typewriter, tears offering to come more readily than words.
Her scattered thoughts, her random ideas, are at the moment, adding up to nothing.
It’s not as if she could walk away though. Writing, she understands, is as much a part of her as her own name. But right now, her belief that she is a writer, with something meaningful to say, is laughing at her behind her back.
She sighs, and makes a wish.
Carefully, she removes the blank, white, mocking sheet from her typewriter, and fetching a pair of scissors cuts the paper into a square. Folding it first one way, and then another, she finds that this task, at least, comes easily.
She sets the first perfect crane in front of herself, and reaches for another piece of paper.
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An ancient Japanese legend promises that anyone who folds one thousand paper cranes will be granted their wish by a crane.
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