An Orizuru by Anfisa Doroshenko

White corrugated envelope almost did not turn yellow with the years.
The intricate knot on it served as a lock, and the two hieroglyphs – these wondrous signs – were like the secret sorrows of some magical order. For a minute, she even thought “Should I say some mystery words before opening the envelope?” But remembering that it was not needed last time, she opened it just as surely as a butcher can dress meat without too much reverence.
“Unravel me” – rustled that cryptic envelope, although she already knew what was inside.
She felt the smell of algae and fish, chalk and straw. She could still smell it. Fragile and translucid origami crane peeked out. The paper was not rough, but groping for the folds, she began to perceive it as alive. From the folds in some places small cracks dispersed. Washi – very special, uniquely Japanese kind of paper was used for it. It was very thick paper and had a soft and rich feel almost like fabric.
The crane (or the orizuru it`s better to say) was red in white flowers with turquoise middles and golden veins imbedded. Although it did not have eyes, it seemed to be looking at her - a little bit with reproach and at the same time with reverence, as at its master. Tiny wings moved unnaturally and it had a slightly pitiful look. She tried to pull them out gently, because if the wings rip, she will have to restart her crane with a new piece of paper (absolutely impossible!). The crane was the object of her deep affections and she cherished it like nothing else. 
How hard it was for her to do it then! Unfortunate Takumi, the director of one of Tokyo schools, had to spend three sheets of paper before she managed to do everything right. That narrow-eyed fellow was good-hearted.
This is for you. – He said when the crane was ready. – As a memento of your visit and as a token of gratitude. From all of us.
He spoke on behalf of school staff members and some hundreds of children. When she heard about those terrible earthquakes in Japan, she decided to volunteer for the campaign. Now she still remembers some days when the earth shuddered from morning till night and she had to apply first aid to people who she could hardly understand in some cases. Takumi showed her how to make a crane, a symbol of hope, on the day when her arms almost fell and the fatigue almost took over. And now, years later, looking at this paper crane, she thought that there is nothing more pleasant than the feeling of being needed…