April 15th, 1940.
{Writing}
Dear, Harry:
Fifty days. It has been fifty days. It feels like just yesterday you left, and I was expecting to see you again a little sooner than later.
But it has been more days than sooner. It has been longer days than sooner. I don't think there's another day I could go without you. I feel as more days go by - the emptiness I feel gets more and more wide by you not being here. I wish so deeply you were, but I know you're trying your best to save everyone. I hope and pray that one day we will see each other again. Until then, keep fighting my love. Keep fighting.
Love, Louis.
YOU ARE READING
99 days (L.S)
أدب الهواة99 days since you've left. 99 letters sent to you from a far. Such a long time feels as much as a century. Keep fighting, my love. Keep fighting, and I'll be here waiting. {1940} Started: 2/2/19. Completed: 12/7/19. Cover by: @wafflesxberries (CC)
