Fold (Sense8) for AnonDrunkGilberto

Capheus watches Sun carefully fold the napkin that came with her meal into a crane. “I thought those were Japanese.”

“They are,” Sun says. “But I like them. Know where to fold, and you can turn paper into anything.”

Capheus pulls her from prison by the hand. “Come with me.”

He drives his battered bus to the outskirts of Nairobi, where it opens into savanna. In the short grass, there’s a flock of a hundred cranes, crested with gold.

“How?” Sun breathes.

“I know where to find them,” Capheus says. He takes her origami, cradles it. “And so do you.”