[ Slipped into Bucky's jacket pocket, which he doesn't find until he's out at sea. It's hastily scribbled, and there are smudges on the paper; she'd been crying. ]
June 15, 1943
You're sound asleep with your head on my lap and I wonder, selfishly, if there is a way I can keep you here, but I guess I've lost my chance a long time ago. So don't die, Buck. Get your dumb ass back here to me and live out your dreams and buy one of those flying cars and walk Becca down the aisle when she marries that punk from the other side of town. (You know she loves you, right? You're lucky to have a sister. I wish I did.)
I don't really believe in God anymore but I will pray for your safe return every day anyway. Maybe I'll have to go fight him so he listens just this once.
I lo
Yours, Stephanie
[ On the empty part of the paper, near her name, is an equally hastily sketched self-portrait, which is the only time she's ever drawn herself. Still, it's beautifully rendered. Below it, a footnote reads: So you don't forget me. ]
no subject
[ On the empty part of the paper, near her name, is an equally hastily sketched self-portrait, which is the only time she's ever drawn herself. Still, it's beautifully rendered. Below it, a footnote reads: So you don't forget me. ]