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

k