george harrison imagines

small talk

may 22 1964

I was a waitress at the new diner, called 'pockey's '. he was a recurring customer. dark hair, beautiful rugged features, you know the usual? he had came in at least five times a week and ordered the same ole same ole, a steak with peas. It was pretty amusing to say the least.

"Why don't you give me your number or somethin?" i chuckled pouring him a glass of wine.

he laughed at me, rubbing the corner of his eye, "I could yeah, but you'd have to pay me." he snorted as i laughed rolling my eyes.

"deal." i winked as he returned the favor lifting his drink up.

"cheers to you too." i smiled as we went on our merry way.