Dear Diary,
The Chestnut Tree cafe is nearly empty. I sit here writing this ebcause I have nothing better to do but worry about the war. I saw Julia the other day, walking through the park. We spoke for a few moments, admitting to betraying one another. Thinking about it makes me sad, but there is no longing in my heart. The past is the past. I find myself engulfed in day dreams more often, usually about Big Brother. How long have I waited for the day when he will envelope me in his loving arms and crack a smile under that mustache?
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