In Spite of all the Danger | McLennon

A Day in the Life ~ Pt. 2

There wasn't a light source inside, so the two could only see a few feet in front of them. But from what they could see, there was another door opposite to the one they just opened, and to their right was a flight of stairs.

John suddenly dashed up the staircase, dragging Paul behind him and leading him to who knows where. Maybe Paul was just paranoid because of the movie they had just watched, but he seriously thought that John was taking him to a remote location so that he could kill him. It was also pitch black in the stairwell, so if Paul wasn't murdered, he was sure he'd trip and fall down the stairs, resulting in his death.

"John, where're we going?"

"Honestly," John said, not slowing down at all, "I have no idea."

Finally, the staircase ended, and upon opening the final door, the two were greeted with a view of the tops of pretty much every building in Liverpool.

Paul gasped and stepped onto the roof of the movie theater, admiring the view around them. It was beautiful. Surprisingly, it wasn't raining that day and the sky was actually a delightful color of blue, with fluffy white clouds scattered here and there.

The roof was quite large, and pretty empty except for a few vents on one side. As Paul walked closer to the edge, he noticed a little wooden bench sitting a few feet away from the edge, facing away from the building. Paul had no idea how or why the bench was there, but it was nice. A little aged and moldy, but it was nice.

Paul turned to face John, who was standing next to the door, looking around. "How'd you know about this place?"

John shrugged. "Frankly, I just wanted to know where that door led." He answered, looking at Paul plainly.

Paul laughed a little, shaking his head. "You're a git." He sat down on the bench and admired the buildings around him. He could stare at that view for hours.

John soon joined him on the bench and they talked for a while, mostly about music, or their life, or whatever else they could make a conversation about.

"Pretty, isn't it?" John remarked, staring out across the horizon of Liverpool. The sun was starting to set by now and the city was lit by a beautiful sunset full of reds and yellows.

Paul nodded in agreement. He wasn't focused on sightseeing anymore, and was now solely intent on ripping a hangnail off his right thumb. He had bitten the tip of his nail off a few days ago, and apparently it had resulted in a nasty hangnail forming on the side of his finger. He had only noticed it a few minutes ago, but he was gonna make sure he got it off one way or another.

"We should bring our guitars up here and write sometime." John suggested, looking over at Paul. When he didn't receive an answer from McCartney, he tried again. "Maybe we could make this sort of like our writing spot."

Paul finally looked up from his nail."Writing spot?"

"Yeah," John suggested, "I don't know about you, but I'm getting loads of song ideas just from being up here."

Paul thought about it for a moment, considering the idea. If Paul and John were supposed to be songwriting partners, it couldn't hurt to have a designated spot for writing, could it? Sure, Paul would prefer to have a spot a little closer to home, but he didn't mind taking a walk to the theatre, or riding his bike.

"But what if it's raining? I don't want to write when I'm sopping wet."

"Then we'll just write at one of our houses. This is a perfect setup, Paul. There's no distractions up here. It'll just be me, you, and our music. It'll be our own special little getaway."