July 23rd
Dear Enjolras,
It's my birthday! I woke up a bit sad today. I guess I'm just accustomed to waking up on my birthday with you next to me. Anyway, I urged myself to get over it. It's not like it's an important birthday, like my 18th or 50th, I'm just 23 today and the next 364. Les Amis are coming over for some drinks soon.
I got a letter from Zelma and Gav this afternoon, wishing me a happy birthday. In the letter, Zelma told me that she finally moved away from our parents and is engaged to a bourgeois man who is about about four years older than me. Gav, of course, has stopped going to school and has pursued many different careers to make ends meet. I wish they'd visit me sometimes. As you probably already know, it gets lonely. I mean, the cat is good company, but I don't really have anyone to talk to. Les Amis are usually busy with the protests and I feel queasy whenever the topic comes up. As for Musichetta, I feel a bit weird trying to talk to her as a friend. There's a line between friendship and doctor/patient.
Les Amis are here now. I'll finish this letter after they leave.
Love Always,
Éponine
