When I open up the letter after hours of hesitation, my eyes take a while to register the letters, but I manage to read it.

Hey! I just met you, but I know that we already have built the beginnings of a great connection together. I'm sorry I can't tell you in person right now, but just ask about "it" the next time you see me. I'll be sure to tell you then!

Underneath the thin blanket, I start crying. There are only a few tears, but they are genuine, more genuine than anything I'd ever seen, more genuine than I thought possible. The only thing that I believe in more was the girl. My life didn't need meaning, I realize. As long as I have her, I'm gonna be fine.

I flip the sheet over, and pen out:

The beginning? I think we've already built a great one! And if you're scared about talking about "it," then I'll let you in on the fact that I've got an "it," too. Ask me, too!

The time I take to write my first letter is no doubt the happiest time of my life. Though it is written in almost complete darkness and the paper keeps ripping, it is the first time I had hope since I was cast into this pit of darkness. Real hope.

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The next day, when I see her at the fence, the first thing I do is let that plane fly straight over that fence, though admittedly, it flies right over her head and nosefirst into the ground. Her face looks completely surprised, saying What, now you can't even say "hi"? Is that too much to ask for? Now we greet each other by throwing stuff at each others's heads? though it's mixed with amusement.

I can hear her laughing silently as she turns around to retrieve the plane. She unfolds it, and her bright blue eyes skim the paper and read it through. Only after she looks up do I realize that my face is red. My face is completely drenched in heat.

"Oh, um," I say, desperately trying to clear up the awkwardness. "Uh..."

She smiles. "It's okay," she says. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

I suddenly get nervous, biting at my lips, and my arms crossed in front of my chest, toying with the dirt-caked skin on my elbows. I swallow some of my fear, and try again to get my words out, but I can't. Silence ensues again, and she breaks it this time.

"It's okay," she repeats. "I still can't do it, either. That's why I've brought you this."

She throws something over the fence and it glides into my arms. A plane. Of course.

"Don't open it up yet," she says quickly. "Not now."

I'm a bit surprised, but I do as she says and keep it in my hands, grateful for something for my hands to play with. The awful silence is back, and I don't know what to say this time to cover it up. The best thing my feeble mind can think of is "Uh... hi."

She bursts out laughing hysterically. I can't help but smile—her happiness is so contagious. "I was waiting for you to say that!" she says. "Took you long enough!"

For a moment, I'm bewildered, thinking What just happened? then suddenly I'm laughing hysterically right along with her. "Yeah," I say, wiping a few tears from my face.

Suddenly, her laughter is gone, replaced by terrible coughing. I run as close to the fence as I dare. "Are you OK?" I ask, desperation apparent in my voice. This girl is my only tie to life now. She is not being taken away from me so soon. I refuse to let it happen.

"I'm fine," she manages to get out. "I'll be fine."

I don't want to push her, so I accept her words and scoot away.

Her coughing is still occupying my mind. I want to accept her "I'll be fine," want to believe it so badly, but I know it's a lie. I can sense it.

She must have saw the expression on my face and read my mind, because she said, "I should be going now. Bye!"

I lift my hand up to wave, and as it passed my eyes, I spot a speck of blood on it. Is it mine? No. It's not. We were working in the kitchen today. Wait, no, 386 broke a glass today, and it broke his skin. I was right next to him, and it must be his. It must be. I wait for a comforting feeling to hit me, something, anything to say that my gut is wrong, but it never comes.