"Hey, you look pale." Griffin doesn't chirp the words out like he usually would. Two weeks have passed. Or four. Maybe a couple of months. Stephen doesn't know, he doesn't keep track of his calendar as well as he used to.
"I'm always pale." Stephen doesn't bother locking eye contact with the boy he's addressing. He's too occupied with his five hundred and fifty-fifth crane to do so. The cranes have grown in abundance. They fill every nook and cranny of his bedroom and kitchen. He needs more space to store them.
"I know you're desperate, but you shouldn't be desperate enough to starve. You need to rest every now and then."
Stephen barely acknowledges what Griffin has to say. He's too obsessed with increasing the digits.
Four hundred and forty-five more to go.
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1001 Cranes | ✔
Nouvelles"There's an ancient legend that revolves around a thousand cranes. The legend says, if you make a thousand cranes you'll be granted a wish. One wish - a wish you can use for anything." "That's hopeful thinking," Stephen dismisses, with an exasperate...
