❝ let me roll it ❞ ▷ paul mccartney.

.05

it had been a few days since victoria received the letter from 'paul mccartney.' skepticism was her only option, she felt. how would she ever know if the sender of the letter was an actual beatle? unless she received a crate with holes poked into it and he popped out of it and claimed those letters to be his, she would remain doubtful of the entire situation and that the real paul mccartney is out in some studio, recording music and writing songs for the rest of the world to enjoy whilst she's sending and receiving letters with some anonymous person.

at first, she put off responding again because she had talked herself out of it; convincing herself that it was just a false advertisement, but the more time went on, she figured there wasn't any harm in it. the fanatical part of her mind overpowered her doubts, and she soon found herself sitting at her kitchen table yet again at eleven thirty at night with a pen in hand.

the piece of paper she had used to send the first letter was merely a flimsy piece of notebook paper, but since the possibility of it actually being paul grew a smidgen when he replied back, victoria had ripped into the heavy-set and cream colored paper she had stowed away in a desk drawer. she never could remember why she bought it in the first place, but she was at least putting it to good use now.

surprisingly, this letter wasn't nearly as hard to write as the first one was. already, victoria felt herself slip into a state of comfort when she pressed the tip of her pen to the paper. the words came whispering softly past her lips as she wrote them down.

dear paul,

it's no surprise you've received plenty of letters! you are a beatle, after all... right? i remember hearing all about the beatles coming to america! it was on every headline on any newspaper i looked at, at the time. you four certainly have quite the fan base!

life in the states isn't too interesting. very routine, i suppose i could say. i have a job as a hairdresser, and even though i own the place and run it all, it feels like the job itself runs me. you aren't missing much unless you visit a big city. small towns like mine aren't all that fab or gear or... whatever adjective you brits use to describe something great.

a presidential suite? my! that's a whole lot of room for just one person, or did one of the other beatles stay with you? was it ringo? ringo is my receptionist's, at the salon, favorite! i'm not all that curious as to why you had the suite, though... i'm more intrigued by the fact that they filled up the tub. tell me, mr. mccartney, what were they doing in there?

victoria wilson.

xoxo

were the x's and o's too much? she thought to herself as she studied the four letters placed directly underneath her name. she bit her bottom lip, her mind running through all of the possible pros and cons of leaving them there. however, she remembered she had written it in ink, and she knew she had messed up on the first letter and she wasn't all that fond of having yet another blemished paper. she was sending it to practical british royalty, for christ's sake.

to double check and make sure she didn't miss anything paul had asked from his own letter, she read through it again - and that's when she remembered his request that she attach a photo of herself. it was a red flag, of course, but she couldn't bring herself to deny his asking. so, she stood up from her seat and went about her humble, little abode in search of a decent photo to send along with her letter.

finally, she had come across a photo that was taken only two and a half weeks prior. a cousin of victoria's was into photography, and she had volunteered to be a subject of a project her cousin was required to do. there was about four different photos, all of them being in color, except for one, and all being headshots. she picked one quickly, not wanting to get caught up in the decision of it, and she returned back to her place at the table. she folded up the small photograph in the paper and stuck it into an envelope. for final touches, she had brought the letter into her bedroom and spritzed it lightly with a bit of perfume. as a woman, it was her duty to seem as lady-like as possible, right?

a smile pinned her twin-flesh up, and she knew the letter was ready to send when she would be on her way to work in the morning. excitement and anticipation coursed through her veins, and she could hardly contain herself at the thought of actually being in a conversation with the paul mccartney. she placed the letter on top of her purse, that was sitting on a small table by the door, and she went off to her bedroom; chloe following her closely behind.

victoria fell asleep with two things on her mind; what she was going to wear the next day and paul mccartney.