Day 52

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April 17th, 1940.

{Writing}

Dear, Harry:

It feels like you've been gone for a hundred days already. Well, it's almost a hundred days. I miss you like crazy. I know I haven't really brought this up before, but I wish I had said something to you before you left. I wish I would have said I love you, and that I hope you'll be safe.

I know we weren't really speaking. Heck, I didn't even know if we were still together. I know we aren't together right now and I honestly think it's best for now at least. You were leaving. And everyday leading up till the day before you left, I wish I could have talked you more out of it, but I knew you wouldn't listen.

You were so confident, ambitious. And I? I judged you. We fought like crazy. Like our love was just falling apart as we yelled at each other. The more we yelled, the more I knew that we wouldn't work. I know we were drifting. I knew I had to let you go. If something happens to you, and I pray to God it doesn't, I know I will have to let you go forever. I don't want that, Harry. I love you so freaking much. I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you. Just please stay safe and keep giving me a sign that you're okay. I love you. So much.

Love, Louis.

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