Nothing special is happening here. Today is Mr. van Daan's birthday. He received two packets of tobacco and one serving of coffee.
He also got lemon punch from Mr. Kugler, sardines from Miep, eau de cologne from us, lilacs, tulips and a cake with raspberry filling,
slightly gluey because of the poor quality of the flour and the lack of butter, but delicious anyway.
All that talk about Peter and me has died down a bit. He's coming to pick me up tonight. Pretty nice of him, don't you think?
We're very good friends. We spend a lot of time together and talk about every imaginable subject.
It's so nice not having to hold back when we come to a delicate topic, the way I would with other boys.
For example, we were talking about blood and somehow the conversation turned to menstruation, etc.
He thinks we women are quite tough to be able to withstand the loss of blood, and that I am too. I wonder why?
My life here has gotten better, much better. God has not forsaken me, and He never will. Yours, Anne M. Frank
SATURDAY, APRIL 1, 1944
My dearest Kitty, And yet everything is still so difficult. You do know what I mean, don't you?
I long so much for him to kiss me, but that kiss is taking its own sweet time. Does he still think of me as a friend?
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