Most of the time our heads were touching. I can't tell you, Kitty, the feeling that ran through me.
I was too happy for words, and I think he was too.
At nine-thirty we stood up. Peter put on his tennis shoes so he wouldn't make much noise on his nightly round of the building,
and I was standing next to him. How I suddenly made the right movement, I don't know,
but before we went downstairs, he gave me a kiss, through my hair, half on my left cheek and half on my ear.
I tore downstairs without looking back, and I long so much for today.
Sunday morning, just before eleven. Yours, Anne M. Frank
MONDAY, APRIL 17, 1944
Dearest Kitty, Do you think Father and Mother would approve of a girl my age sitting on a divan and kissing a seventeen-and-a-half-year-old boy?
I doubt they would, but I have to trust my own judgment in this matter.
It's so peaceful and safe, lying in his arms and dreaming,
it's so thrilling to feel his cheek against mine, it's so wonderful to know there's someone waiting for me.
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