My Neighbor I Know So Well (AmeCan)

Temporary Black (Canada)

13 October, 1943

Being in the infirmary for about five months almost cost me movement of my legs because I couldn't get around that far. Instead of waking up in a hospital bed, I woke up on a mattress on the ground. What a nice place to wake up in. It was black at first, and I began to panic since I couldn't see anything. Someone must've heard my hollering because soon enough I felt hands pin me down and a voice yelling for me to calm down.

What a coincidence because that same voice was Alfred, and I found myself in the same situation again. I kept asking him to turn on the lights, but he only laughed and told me that there were paddings and gauzes covering my eyes. He swapped my fingers away when I tried pulling the gauzes off and told me to relax. Once I "relaxed", he reviewed all the things that happened to me and said that only my cornea had been scratched. He also talked about how he was able to squeeze himself in to be with me in my recovery.

"It was kind of a dick move for the guys there and here, Mattie, but I kept telling myself it would be worth it in the end."

As much as I appreciated Al going all the way just to make sure I didn't end up as bad as last time, I did get mad at him for leaving them like that. Now that he was already here, I guess there wasn't any point of telling him to leave. Although we had a lot of time to spare, I couldn't think of anything to get the day rolling by. So we talked about anything that came to mind, some even going back to when we first were forced to meet. One conversation that perked my attention the most (apart from the one where he told me I was to get prescription glasses) was when he recalled the kitchen incident where he was cleaning frosting off of my curl. Alfred began to go off on wondering why we did all that happened that night and the following days, and all I could do to respond was have a flustered face staring at him. I honestly don't know myself, but one thing that's certain is he didn't show any signs of disgust or unpleasantry- no instead he was smiling.

I was at a loss for words. Never had I seen him acting so strange. He told me that we'd continue the conversation at another, more secluded area. Led by the hand and seeing only black, I followed oblivious to where he was taking me. You could figure out yourself what happened once we got there. My mind flares whenever I remember.

Is that even allowed? Actually, I don't care. What I do care is that I received news by telegraph from London that Arthur had recovered and was being deployed back to France and spending time preparing there for an assault in Germany that could possibly do more than turn the tables for us allies. This I am very eager to see! Yet, I have not received any information about the whereabouts of Francis. I'm becoming more overwhelmed with worry just thinking of all the places he could be or even if he's still alive. After all, Paris is and has been occupied for a very long while from now. Part of me is saying that he's still alive and at least hidden somewhere while another is saying that he's dead, and no one wants to tell me that because they know how I'll react.

The three of us have yet to place the full assault on German-occupied France, this we've planned extensively. If our mission fails, then there won't be any more hopes left in winning this war and freeing the many persecuted innocents soon to lose their lives. In our hands lie the fate of Europe.

Your friend, Matthew