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June 25, 1961 // 12:37 am
{ Soundtrack; When The Love Falls - Yiruma }
"I'm James Paul McCartney. Fancy meeting you here," he purred seductively as he stretched his arm out and I shook it. His tousled mop for hair blew around as he flattened it out with his hand, subsequently lighting a cigarette and dragging it.
James Paul McCartney. That very name had a lasting first impression on me, occupying my brain for what seemed like forever.
"You should quit smoking," I told him as I gazed into his impenetrable eyes, watching as the clouds of smoke tumbled quietly through his open lips, a silent killer.
"Why?" He didn't look me in the eye.
"Because it will kill you." He shrugged and blew the smoke up to the twinkling stars.
"I'm gonna die sooner or later anyways."
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Without him this would be a blank page, he was my story. His words gave me meaning and for a while they were the essence of my creativity. But soon his words turned cynical and I wanted a different exposition. This was no longer a blank page, nor a perfect story. Instead he was ink stains, smudged lines, and torn edges. He was an over edited draft and I was the cliché dragging him down. He was my ill-fated muse.
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Welp it's a new story and I have lots of plans for this one! Please leave feedback, thank you!
- love, starrymccartney