Sunday, February 16, 1947

“Gee, I miss you.” After saying that, there’s little else to write about. He’s spent the whole day in his hot, sticky bed, except for an occasional trip downstairs to break the monotony. He brought the radio up to keep him company, and has been enjoying some beautiful music, including Beethoven’s 7th and some songs by James Melton.

His mother went to visit Pop today. He has gained some weight and is now up to 107 pounds! (At about 5’9″ or 5’10”!) He wasn’t feeling too well today, but mentioned that he got a big kick out of Dot’s recent letter.

Dart caught a little item in the paper that gave him an idea for his next prose assignment. The word suggestion for the assignment was “thrill” and he thinks he can get a pretty good piece out of a “thought-teaser about the a-bomb.”  While Dot was in Cleveland, he wishes he’d had her read a piece he’s been “aging.”  Like the a-bomb piece he’s considering,  it’s a peculiar style of fiction that has real possibilities.

Now his nose is sore from blowing it all day, his tailbone hurts from sitting on it, and he’s very tired. He wishes she were there to give him a back rub and crawl into bed with him. If she were to surprise him with a visit today. he’s sure he’d grab on to her and never let her go.

“Dot, will you be able to teach me anything you know that I don’t know about ‘us’ before we’re married? And will you teach me to dance with you? I don’t care if we never show our skill publicly, as long as we can dance together. Good night, my dearest sweetheart. You are the happiness in my life. I love you always.”

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