Day 38

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April 3rd, 1940.

{Writing}

Dear, Harry:

Please, Harry. It's been hours and still nothing from you. I'm praying and hoping that you're alright, but you keep making me loose hope. When are you gonna give us a sign? I'm worried, your mum's worried, everybody is worried.

The news is giving me no justice. I just keep praying that you're okay. I keep hoping that you'll somehow give us a sign. Please my love, just any sign will be good enough.

Love, Louis.

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