• Sunday, April 16, 1944

    My dearest Kitty,
    Remember yesterday's date, since it was a red-letter day for me. Isn't it an important day for every girl when she gets her first kiss? Well then, it's no less important to me. The time Bram kissed me on my right cheek or Mr. Woudstra on my right hand doesn't count. How did I suddenly come by this kiss? I'll tell you.
    Last night at eight I was sitting with Peter on his divan and it wasn't long before he put an arm around me. (Since it was Saturday, he wasn't wearing his overalls.) "Why don't we move over a little, " I said, "so I won't keep bumping my head against the cupboard."
    He moved so far over he was practically in the corner. I slipped my arm under his and across his back, and he put his arm around my shoulder, so that I was nearly engulfed by him. We've sat like this on other occasions, but never so close as we were last night. He held me firmly against him, my left side against his chest; my heart had already begun to beat faster, but there was more to come. He wasn't satisfied until my head lay on his shoulder, with his top of mine. I sat up again after about five minutes. but before long he took my head in his hands and put it back next to his. Oh, it was so wonderful. I could hardly talk, my pleasure was too intense; he caressed my cheek and arm, a bit clumsily, and played with my hair. Most of the time our heads were touching.
    I can't tell you, Kitty, the feeling that ran through me.
    I was too happy for words, and I think he was too.
    At nine-thirty we stood up. Peter put on his tennis shoes so he wouldn't make much noise on his nightly round of the building, and I was standing next to him. How I suddenly made the right movement, I don't know, but before we went downstairs, he gave me a kiss, through my hair , half on my left cheek and half on my ear. I tore downstairs without looking back, and I long so much today.
    Sunday morning, just before eleven.
    Yours, Anne M. Frank