March 10th, 1940.

{Writing}

Dear, Harry:

How are you, Harry? are you okay? are you hurt? have you been attacked? most importantly, are you alive? all these questions have been eating at me. I don't know what to think anymore.

You won't give me a sign. Though, of course, I know you're fighting for your life and ours right now. It scares me so deeply, but I know you're strong. Keep fighting, my love. Keep fighting.

Love, Louis.