Dear Bucky,
Steve is going to the army.
I'm not kidding when I say that. He sent me a letter at the very end of April saying he was leaving for basic training. He said he's going to qualify for some "Super-Soldier" program or whatnot. I'm fearing the worst for his life.
Spring is coming to a close in Brooklyn, the summer winds are beginning arrive, swinging the fallen petals around the sidewalks.
The local bakery smells of blueberries and blackberries.
Eliza and Daniel are doing well, we have heard from Allan once in the past couple months.
The ring still shines greatly on the necklace, while my fingers become coarse and rough from the factories.
I love you, Bucky.
~Love, Rebecca Wood