FRIDAY, MAY 19, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
I felt rotten yesterday. Vomiting (and that from Anne!), headache, stomachache and anything else you can imagine. I'm feeling better today. I'm famished, but I think I'll skip the brown beans we're having for dinner.
Everything's going fine between Peter and me. The poor boy has an even greater need for tenderness than I do. He still blushes every evening when he gets his good-night kiss, and then begs for another one. Am I merely a better substitute for Boche? I don't mind. He's so happy just knowing somebody loves him.
After my laborious conquest, I've distanced myself a little from the situation, but you mustn't think my love has cooled. Peter's a sweetheart, but I've slammed the door to my inner self; if he ever wants to force the lock again, he'll have to use a harder crowbar!
Yours, Anne M. Fran
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