He watched the approaching girl through blue eyes. She was very pretty. It was the first thing he noticed. She stood staring at him through the barbed wire, her blonde hair and white dress whipped by the wind. After a moment, he turned back to his work. The men were too close. He didn't want to get in trouble.

He heard the crinkle of paper and turned again. A neatly folded paper plane soared over the fence. A bloodied hand reached out and grabbed it, giving the girl a confused look. She clasped her hands and smiled. A beautiful smile. He fell for her then and there. Hesitantly, he unfolded the paper plane.

What is your name?

He blinked, fishing in his pocket for a pencil. It was all he really had left. He frequently used it to draw, or help the younger kids that made it through. He'd teach them to write. Quickly, he scribbled his name and folded the paper again, sending it soaring back to the girl. She smiled again, catching the paper and unfolding it. After a moment, the plane came back to him.

It's a pleasure to meet you, Len.
What is your life like?

This time, Len smiled back at her. They sent the planes back and forth, asking about each other's life. Len chose to talk about his life before the concentration camp. He left out that he was Jewish at first, but eventually he chose to tell her. She didn't mind at all, and it surprised him. She told him about how she lived nearby, and her father had a very important job.

For the first time in a long time, Len was happy, and had confidence in life. He had hope. Hope that he'd make it through this. The last paper plane she sent over said she'd see him tomorrow. He clutched the letter and waved to her, smiling, as she turned and ran off through the field beyond the fence.

Back in the hospital that night, Rin read and reread all of the letters they had written to each other. It made her heart flutter in a way she was completely unfamiliar with. She wondered if this was how they described love. She heard the nurses walking down the hall and quickly stuffed the letters under her pillow, laying down.

She snuck out the next day as well. The visits were daily for a long while, and they made both Rin and Len hopeful and happy. Len was positive he loved her, and Rin was positive she loved him. However, neither of them said a thing. They never spoke. Only wrote. They wrote about anything and everything, Rin always leaving out the fact that she was sick. She masked it well, and Len never suspected it.

Rin's hearing was failing. It became evident the night her father walked in on her reading a letter. She blushed at the words, smiling. Smiling until a hand cruelly ripped the letter from her hands. She reached out for it, surprised and shocked. Her father read the words slowly, then angrily crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground.

"I forbid you to go there again." he spoke, each word firm.

Rin didn't understand. Why couldn't she? He was just like her. She shook her head and started to protest. "But, daddy, he--"

"No, Rin. Do not go back there."

This time his voice was threatening. She looked down at her lap, and he left the room, angered. His perfect daughter, speaking to a Jewish boy. It disgusted him. He closed the door behind him before he could hear her first sob. He beckoned to the nurses, and they spoke of her illness. They told him she was showing signs of improvement, and he smiled, thankful. Back in the room, Rin had retrieved the letter, and was clutching it to her chest.

She obeyed her father's wishes. She spent her days looking out her window. Her body became harder and harder to move, and the amount of tubes hooked up to her increased. One day she overheard the nurses speaking of her. The voices said she wouldn't live much longer. This scared her, and she cried, staring down at her lap. She couldn't let Len worry about her. Scribbling out a note, she pulled the tubes away from her body, and slowly snuck out of the hospital one last time, willing her body to go.

He was very happy to see her that day. She smiled to him, pointing to her paper plane. She tossed it to him, and he caught it, smiling back. He unfolded the letter and read the story of how she was moving away. He frowned and looked up to see she had turned around and begun walking away. He gulped and frowned.

"I'll wait!"

Rin froze, and turned her head to look at the boy. Had he spoken to her? His voice was so pure and innocent.

"I'll keep the letters safe, so we'll meet again someday. I promise."

She couldn't take it anymore. She turned and ran, letting the tears she had been holding in flow down her cheeks. Her body screamed at her to stop, but she ignored it. Len watched her go, tears in his eyes, and the paper clutched tightly in his hand. He would see her again. He knew he would. He just had to keep her letters safe.

That night, Rin's symptoms became much worse. As she fought to breathe, her father fought to get to her side. He heard her say the Jewish boy's name, and saw the tears in her eyes before they forced him out of the room. Anger overcame him. He would find this Jewish boy that was killing his daughter.

Len was sitting in the shadows, his letters around him. He read the first one he got slowly, smiling happily. Footsteps caught his attention. Two pairs of hands grabbed his arms, and another ripped the note out of his hands. He reached for it, and the man with the glasses tore it in half, right in front of his face. Len watched in horror as the shreds of the letter fell to the ground. He pulled away from the two men, his fist aimed for the man's face.

"You--"

His arms were grabbed again, and the man with the glasses frowned, pulling his hat down to hide his face. Why did his daughter cry for this boy?

Len hung his head. He had broken his promise. The men shoved him into the dark room, and closed the doors behind him. He didn't recognize anybody in there, but it didn't really matter. He looked to the ground, wishing that he could see her, just one last time. He took a deep breath, and it cut into him like knives. He gasped, dropping to his knees. Someone screamed. Then another scream. The entire chamber was filling with panicked screams. Len cried. He clutched at his throat, crying for the girl he had met. He remembered her face, her smile, the time they had spent writing letters to each other. Then he saw it. A piece of paper nearby. He reached out a shaking hand, grabbing the letter and reading it through tear-filled eyes. It was her writing.

He didn't have time to wonder how the letter had gotten there. He clutched it, and he cried. Breathing grew difficult, and as he collapsed to the floor, he realized she never told him her name.

Rin lay in her hospital bed, incapable of moving anymore. Dying didn't seem as bad, as long as she knew that the boy would smile up at her in the sky. As long as she would see him again. A ringing noise started in her head, and she felt the paper plane she had held for so long slip from her grasp. She missed the boy so much. She just wanted to go now. She wanted to see him again. He made her so happy. She felt a hand on hers, and the gentle scratch of paper against her hand. It was her letter. She smiled, and closed her eyes. She was alright now.

Her father smiled sadly as his daughter closed her eyes for the last time.

Rin opened her eyes again. She was standing in a field. The sun was shining, and the breeze was gentle. A paper plane was flying overhead, out of her reach. She turned around to chase it. The boy was there. He was smiling back at her.

"I'm Len. What's your name?" he asked.

His voice was just how she remembered it. So pure and innocent. She brought her hands to her mouth in surprise, and smiled, her eyes filling with tears. "Rin. I'm Rin." she whispered, stepping towards him.

He smiled again, and took her hand. No fence between them, no paper planes to speak. Careless and pain free, they walked across the field, leaving the difficulties they had faced during their lives behind.