I am flat. I have no form or thoughts. I am plain. I am white. I am like everyone else.

 

One touch

 

I am bent. I am moved. I have a shadow now. It is a plain shadow. But it is my shadow.

 

Two touches

 

I think it was an accident. Why was I bent again? Maybe there was a reason.

 

Three touches

 

I'm suspecting that it was on purpose. It keeps happening. I'm being given a purpose.

 

Four touches

 

Others look at me now. There is anticipation in their gaze. Maybe they know something I don't.

 

Five touches

 

They don't know either, but I can see they are excited. I am not. I was okay with being nothing.

 

Six touches

 

It was nice being like the others. In a stack, one on top of the other, I had contact.

 

Seven touches

 

It is nice though, to have the others looking. I look at my shadow and I recognize it as something, familiar.

 

Eight touches

 

I remember it now. I saw one of us becoming something long ago when I was at the bottom.

 

Nine touches

 

The thing from before. Yes! It had wings! Now I have wings. Can I fly? It couldn't, but I look different.

 

Ten touches

 

Now I know. The others are calling me crane. I am a bird. Becoming like the one before.

 

Eleven touches

 

The others look with such awe. I am beautiful now. More than I was before. More than the others are. 

 

Twelve touches

 

I am the new crane. I will fly into the heavens. Above the others. Where I belong.

 

Thirteen touches

 

I am complete. I am picked up. I will fly now. The creator releases me and I fly in the fullness of my beauty. I twist and turn in the air while the others look upon me with envy. I descend, gliding beyond the other things and land behind a large thing. 

 

No touch

 

I hear the footsteps. The creator comes to pick me up to fly the heavens again.

 

No touch

 

Perhaps the creator was burned by my beauty. It will take some time to heal from the wounds.

 

No touch

 

I know the creator is there. I hear the creak of the table. The wound must still be healing.

 

No touch

 

Where is the creator? Has it become so bad, the wound? I feel perhaps I was wrong.

 

No touch

 

The thing is large. This prevents the creator's touch.

 

No touch

 

The thing is not too large. The creator moved it, but did not see me. I saw the creator.

 

No touch

 

I hear new touches. Perhaps the creator is making lesser cranes to find me. 

 

No touch

 

The other one flies. It lands. It is picked up.

 

No touch

 

I am forgotten