⇾ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

↠ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

SUNDAY, JULY 18, 1965

Alexandria felt her best whenever she was being productive. Ever since noon, she had been sitting out on the back porch, editing. tomorrow was her third appointment with her new editor, and she was finishing up the last touches on the chapter she had been assigned to edit.

Halfway through her novel, Alexandria was feeling better about her chances at being published with each visit. Her editor seemed exceptionally enthralled with the way her book was coming along, and she was quite impressed—though she'd never say it to Alexandria's face—because she'd never seen anyone adjust to the life of editing as easy as Alexandria. Perhaps they weren't as driven as Alexandria. Alexandria wanted to get better. She was eager for new ways to make her writing better, and this was simply one of those ways. She loved the criticism because it was there to teach, to make her better.

The sun was beginning to touch the horizon now, and it was shining in Alexandria's face. She'd switched chairs so that her back was to the great big ball of fire, and the back of her neck was now taking all of the heat. She scribbled a note onto her paper and then typed her revised sentence on her typewriter. She was so very close now, and just in time because she was starting to get restless.

The back door opened just as she hit the period button, and she looked up to see George coming toward her, a glass of water in each of his hands. She smiled at him as he trailed over and took the seat across from her. He'd been supplying her with drinks and food all day in between private music sessions. Now that the Beatles had completed their most recent album, Help!, they were beginning to think about their next project. As always, they were chocked full of ideas for their next album. And as always, George was determined to write something good enough to appear alongside John and Paul's compositions. Alexandria hated that he had to work so hard for that. His songs were just as brilliant, so why didn't it come as easy for him as it did for John and Paul?

"Almost done?" George asked, sitting one of the glasses in front of Alexandria. She immediately picked it up and took a long sip of it, nodding her head in the process.

"Yeah, I'm almost done," she responded, looking back down at the single paragraph she had left.

"Brilliant," George replied. "You mind if I sit here while you finish up? Maybe even...read a couple pages?" He grinned slyly because he knew how much she hated him reading her things. It always embarrassed her beyond belief.

Her cheeks turned pink and she shrugged. "Go ahead," she said, gesturing to the stack of paper-clipped papers to her right.

George smiled and reached for the papers, sipping on his water.

Alexandria zoned back in on her writing while George quietly read across from her. She tapped her feet against the deck, almost too worried about what George thought of her chapter to focus on the last paragraph she had to read through. To occupy her mind, she read over her editors notes and suggestions, making the edits that she saw as fit. Then, she turned back to her typewriter and began to type. When her typewriter dinged for the fourth time, George lifted his eyes and watched as she finished off her last sentence and punctuated it. Then, she looked up and met his eyes.