I hold your paper plane tightly in my trembling hands, the words blurred by the tears I'm trying so hard not to cry. It is everything to me; you are everything, all I have, all I had.
I am running. I don't know when I started to run but I know where I am going. To find you. People call out, telling me to stop, to come back, but I can't. I can't because it isn't true. I'll find you and you'll smile at me like always and apologise for making me worry, because it isn't true, it can't be. I've reached your room now, people telling me to stop, to slow down. I open your door and run to your bed... and you're there, like always. I'm still holding your paper plane crumpled in my hand, but the words are still legible.
I'm sorry. I don't want to go, to leave you but you know I have no choice. This will be my last letter, my last paper plane to you before I have to go. Please don't be upset, don't lose that wonderful smile of yours. I don't think I could bear that. Maybe we'll meet a