1969

The band was having issues, no doubt about that, and seeing it yourself was really just saddening.

Having been their secretary back from when you weren't even deemed secretary and they were still 'The Silver Beetles', you'd seen it all, but their bond--and their band--potentially having issues was one thing you couldn't predict.

You had always been the closest to George, you got along better with him, since you were relatively laid-back and he was able to match that energy better than the other boys. So given that closeness, George told you a lot, he could trust you enough to open up, so you got the whole inside scoop on his views of the band during this time.

They had been tasked to make an album's worth of songs by the end of the month, and it was stressful, not just to them, but to you. You hated seeing them not get along, or George talk bad about these people you once considered inseparable.

So suddenly, George had rung you up, telling you he wanted to talk. Obviously you had listened, being his ear for so long was just commonplace by now.

Now here you were, sitting on the edge of a bed in a hotel room he had been checked into, as he was ranting about the issues he was having with the band, the fact they wouldn't play his songs, how he felt completely detached, all of it.

You listening intently, your eyes following him as he walked around the hotel room, cigarette in hand, and you couldn't help but think back to when he was still excited about Beatlemania and still happy with being in the band. But these things don't last forever, as strong as it seemed to you...