Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 176

I take a step forward and she glances up; smiles welcomingly at me. A sigh gusts through the entire room
and flutters the curtains. It ruffles Cecelia’s hair and fills the entire room.
The paper cranes are taking flight. They come to life with a soft rustle of beating wings, held up by gossamer
wires, drifting up and down above our heads. Cecelia’s eyes are soft; she glances above us, then holds up the
crane she was folding and lets it float into the air. I clutch my notebook tighter to my chest.
Peace. Hope. Luck . Refuge.
I close my eyes but still they soar on through their journey, ephemeral and weightless, borne lithely through
the endless current of time with the beating of my heart.