February 9th 1967
He took his usual seat on the window sill, now slightly dipped, where he perched for endless hours of everyday he could. Sometimes with a cigarette in his left hand, sometimes a pen and sometimes simply nothing. This was the very place where he used to communicate to the other side, but that was no longer the situation. No matter how long he looked for, nothing ever changed. Nothing ever happened nor even moved, the view was just still. Just like a photograph.
A photograph that she could've captured.
But when his time was unfortunately not fulfilled, he slipped away back to reality. Either by his fellow band mates or when the sense of defeat took over him entirely. However, today was different. At least he wanted it to be.
He paused in his tracks, stopping on the stairs, as he pondered on an idea. He suddenly began to think about her thought process.
If he was going to be noticed, he had to change something in his routine. He knew that she would've studied it just so she wouldn't even have to think about him let alone see him. He understood that she was erasing him from her memory, as if they had never met just so that she could heal, or at least try to.
But he had a plan, one that would cause speculation yet it was so subtle.
*Woooo! Here we go again!*
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second question... ~ Paul McCartney (2nd book)
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