A Million Little Hammers

Salem, Oregon
March 24/42

Darling:

Just a note before I go to bed. I’ve been pretty busy all evening, and didn’t think I’d get a chance to write at all.

If you don’t already know it, you’re constantly on my mind. Whenever I speak to you over the telephone or see you in person, a million little hammers seem to pound away inside me. I get a sensation which answers the description of the sensation of drowning, except that the feeling gives me pleasure. All I have to do any more to go into a trance is just thinking of how happy I have been in your company, or how happy we are going to be when we start making our home. For the present, we can only dream, but that in itself is one of the greatest pleasures I’ve ever enjoyed.

It seems that you must sometimes hear me when I speak to you, because when I’m alone, and thinking of you, I rehearse in my mind the things I want to say to you. The sweet things I want to tell you, the way you affect me, the things I want to do to make you happy. You really have me on the ropes, and I love it.

I must close now, as the lights are just about to go out, and I really don’t write well in the dark.

Goodnight, darling.

Your,
Jim

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