Dearest Brother,
Father still hates you and Mother won't utter your name, but this is probably because she would rather not think of the danger you are in. I believe she secretly views you as a hero, but she daren't send you her love. If Father were to find out her life would be miserable.
I shall write on the back of this paper so maybe I can fit on all the events that happened since you left without surpassing my paper ration.
Michael came over to dinner last night. He's doing well, in truth, but he complained the entire time because, as he put it, the dratted war has taken his steaks...fancies himself a martyr, I suppose.
You remember Tony? He was drafted last week, and already I miss him dreadfully, almost as much as I miss you dear Mark. Tony and I started going steady almost a week after you enlisted. I'll miss playing croquet with him mostly I think. He was good competition. I do not think Mother shall miss him though, nor shall our Father, for they viewed him as a urchin. Tony may not have been rich but he was not just a poor Italian beggar. He worked very hard as a restaurant owner but the war has destroyed so much of his business. I wish I could end it all and re-establish poor Tony's business, but enough about Tony and I. I'll bore you.
Since Christmas is coming we have decorated the house with evergreen boughs from top to bottom. I even snuck a small tree in your room and wrapped it in red ribbon. I'm sure good old Murray won't say a word when he cleans your room. He still treats it as if you were home and even straightens the bedsheets each morning . I bet you miss him taking such good care of you even more then you miss your sister.
I am going to grudgingly admit you're last letter concerned me for your safety. You seemed a little distant and vague- actually positively frightened, and I do so hope that this letter shall find you well and in better spirits. I wish I could have included a snapshot of all of us we were to have taken Friday when Michael came, but he rushed off suddenly and now the photo lacks a family member so it would be no better then the one I sent you last time.
It's getting hard to write so tinily (I do not believe this is a word and you can tell I have erased it several times to try different, more appropriate spellings, but none had so fitting an end as ily), but I dread I shall run out of this piece of paper as well if I do not. Heaven knows that I shall regret spending two pieces of paper writing you, and three writing sweet Tony, but you are my loves, and no others.
I bought Mother a beautiful pearl necklace for Christmas. I am very afraid it might have been an illegal transaction and have hidden it safely away in my bureau. I may not give it to her this Christmas. I might wait until after the war even, for the man I bought it from seemed a shady sort, like a fellow from the movies might, with a hook nose and a sharp jaw, and as ashamed as I am of it, I did buy it in an alleyway with my own cash. I do hope it wasn't stolen, but it's absolutely darling; it should look pretty on Mother.
I bought you something too, but I can't send it, it's much to large, so I had Murray help me take it to your room for when you come home. It's with the gift I bought you last Christmas. If the war should last much longer you shall have an entire bevy of gifts saved in your bedroom I believe, for Mother dear also bought you something, and Michael, although between us, mine is by far the best gift of the lot.
Look at this, almost out of paper and I still have so much to tell you.
Little Spots has been a doll since you left and she still comes to the kitchen to look for food. Father said she's a nuisance but deep down I believe he really likes her, for I caught him scratching behind her ears while she purred in appreciation.
I don't think I shall fit much more, so I will conclude this letter by saying don't give your heart to another, not until you kiss your favorite sister goodbye, and be safe. We all miss you (yes, even Father) and pray you return to us safely. Kill Hitler for me. Love, Michelle