Epilogue To Masato's Room
Masato’s doctor was a jolly, good-natured man with a smile made of saccharine and kind sentiments. Masato liked him since he always laughed when the boy asked for more pages of medical documents to make his paper cranes. His joy was whole-hearted and contagious and made Masato wish all grown-ups were like him.
“How many have you made today?” Masato shrugged. He had lost count of how many cranes he had made over the past week; it seemed more of a habit than a child-like pastime. He gave a soft hmph before continuing, fingers following a strict routine of fold, press, fold, as the doctor squatted beside his bed. The older man held a piece of paper and he proceeded to fold his own origami. In barely any time at all, he produced a perfectly formed crane. …show more content…
“How did you fold it so nicely?”
The doctor smiled softly. “A patient here taught me.” He gazed out the window, resting on a sakura tree in full bloom as he absentmindedly stroked the paper. With every touch, he smeared bittersweet memories onto the surface. There were those he didn’t want to recall, and those he had cherished up until now. “A really bright, lovely boy. He was around your age, actually. And he loved folding paper cranes, just like you.”
“Is he still here? Can I play with him?”
The doctor averted his eyes and shook his head. “No, he’s… he’s not here anymore.”
“Oh.”
There was something so pitiful about Masato’s expression that the doctor felt compelled to continue. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There was something inside his brain that couldn’t be fixed.”
“Not even with sticky tape?”
“Not even with sticky tape.” The corners of the doctor’s mouth lifted into a semblance of a smile. “But at least making the paper cranes kept him happy during that time.”
“What time?”
“There was a time,” the doctor spoke slowly, “when all the children were dying, and none of the adults could do anything about it. He was the only one left and grew up alone, after all his friends went before
“How many have you made today?” Masato shrugged. He had lost count of how many cranes he had made over the past week; it seemed more of a habit than a child-like pastime. He gave a soft hmph before continuing, fingers following a strict routine of fold, press, fold, as the doctor squatted beside his bed. The older man held a piece of paper and he proceeded to fold his own origami. In barely any time at all, he produced a perfectly formed crane. …show more content…
“How did you fold it so nicely?”
The doctor smiled softly. “A patient here taught me.” He gazed out the window, resting on a sakura tree in full bloom as he absentmindedly stroked the paper. With every touch, he smeared bittersweet memories onto the surface. There were those he didn’t want to recall, and those he had cherished up until now. “A really bright, lovely boy. He was around your age, actually. And he loved folding paper cranes, just like you.”
“Is he still here? Can I play with him?”
The doctor averted his eyes and shook his head. “No, he’s… he’s not here anymore.”
“Oh.”
There was something so pitiful about Masato’s expression that the doctor felt compelled to continue. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There was something inside his brain that couldn’t be fixed.”
“Not even with sticky tape?”
“Not even with sticky tape.” The corners of the doctor’s mouth lifted into a semblance of a smile. “But at least making the paper cranes kept him happy during that time.”
“What time?”
“There was a time,” the doctor spoke slowly, “when all the children were dying, and none of the adults could do anything about it. He was the only one left and grew up alone, after all his friends went before