May 30th, 1942

Dean,

I can't help feeling like something's been stolen. Summer just started- and now I have an empty house in which I was supposed to spend the summer fighting for control of the remote with you. I know it's selfish, and I know this day could have come at any time with you being on call and everything; but that doesn't stop me from being shocked every morning when I wake up and you're not pounding your fists against the thin walls of our apartment to get me to turn off my alarm at this "ungodly hour in the goddamn morning you asshole". It's just... it's (hard) different.

See you soon, Dean. The summer's not the same without you.

1039 more days