Paul would have been narked; ballistic even. If it wasn't because of the latish and dally motions of his assigned delivery personnels, his opus and today's chores were already finish and now being polished instead. He could not help but feel aggravated and torn about all these stuff and the pressure weighing over him.
The lights were packaged 'bout a week ago and was sent the last night, he originally asked for orange bulbs but something went against him so he ordered fairylights.
But seeing how these blend up altogether; with the wooden floor and beige colored walls; it just won't work.
He should've known.
Things would not be as easy as he thought it would be.
God, who knows that deciding over tiled floors or carpeted ones would be this fucking stressful?
Well, that would definitely not be him.
"George? D'you mind telling Richard I want a swap. Shades might be better idea."
Turning off his phone, Paul let out his umpteenth sigh of the day.
Whatever possessed him to start building a restaurant, he is not very amused.
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Tables for Two • McLennon
FanfictionWho would've guessed? Paul McCartney is building his soon to be opened restaurant. With his courage to do his best along with his friends' aid, he starts to learn how much effort it is to put up with life's bullshit throughout his newly found care...
