June 12, 1942

Anne woke much earlier than usual, too early to disturb her parents. Going back to sleep was unthinkable; she was too excited for that. Inevitably, her thoughts lingered on the birthday presents on the kitchen table. Her presents.

Among the presents was the beautiful red and white diary that Father had bought for her. She had seen it in the store window a few days ago and he had taken her back to be sure that he got the right one.

She never had a diary before. In lieu of a close friend, it would be the confidante that would keep her thoughts and feelings safe, things she could never share with her everyday friends.

Besides, friendships were increasingly dangerous. The family was already being treated differently than other people. The sense that their home was safe was evaporating quickly. Anne knew that the situation couldn’t go on indefinitely. There might be some difficult times in front of them but, eventually, life would return to normal. Until then, she would have the diary to confide in.

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