December 3, 1937

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Dear Diary,

Bucky has been so much more... romantic lately. Ever since the other night I feel so much closer to him; I think he feels it too.

It's not that usual feeling in my head, either. It's not that simple. Usually, it's a thought... like an idea only seemingly representative of how I feel - that love that I feel for him. But now, it's more of a feeling of literal physical closeness.

It's like the difference between the warm amber color of a flame and its unmistakable heat.

—————

It was all Bucky's idea, allow me to start with that.

God, what was I thinking, listening to him? He never comes up with good ideas.

Let me elaborate. He wanted to go to a bar, so we did. It's called P. J. Clarke's and it really is a nice little place on 63rd Street... it's a restaurant and a bar, so hopefully we'll have some fun.

• • •

We haven't even had our first sip of beer yet, when Bucky gets approached by some dirty-blonde haired blue eyed dame. Figures.

"Haven't seen you 'round here before," she says in a lilted, flirty voice.

"Well, it is my first time, after all," Bucky explains plainly.

"In that case, I suppose I oughtta introduce myself..." she paused and fixed her posture, pushing her boobs out and looking up at him under her fake eyelashes before sticking her hand out and offering it to him. "I'm Mil," she finally said.

Kill me now.

"Uh... I- I'm James," he stuttered, shaking her hand with that charming smile of his.

I finished my first beer by the end of that horrifying introduction and quickly asked the bartender for another.

To be honest, the alcohol was already getting to me... I thought I heard him introduce himself as James which, by the by, is very odd.

"Mmmm what a lovely name... James. I like it," she commented unnecessarily.

I guess I'm not, in fact, imagining it. But why is he even bothering with her right now, you know, while I'm here?

"Oh, uh- thanks... yours too. It's cute and short. What's it short for, by the way?" He asked.

"Mildred, actually... never really liked it," she admitted.

"No, no... I think it's actually quite nice," he complimented her.

What the hell is going on? I should have walked away before this whole... whatever this is, started.

"Why thank you, James," she smiled at him. "So... what kind of work do you do? I mean, surely it's labor intensive," she added.

"How do you mean?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, you look so strong... those muscles..." she reached out and grabbed his vascular arm, biting her lower lip in astonishment.

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