MARGO

I stood, shivering, my small suitcase at my feet. Silhouettes walked past me, people headed off to their own busy lives.

Someone bumped into me, knocking the suitcase over. The shadow snaked away without apology.

I didn't care much. I just wanted to get someplace warm. I bent down and quickly righted the suitcase.

Another shiver traveled up my back as I craned my neck to look down the road. It had been some time, and George still hasn't arrived.

I knew I was imposing. I knew it was rude to disturb him this way, at such an hour. But I didn't care. I needed someone to talk to, someone just like George, who could listen for hours and then be able to return with the perfect words. I needed a friend.

I also needed to get to Paul. I needed to know that he was alright. And not just hear it over the phone.

Soon, I saw his car pull up to the curb. I reached down and picked up my suitcase. Once I tried to get to the car, I froze. I could not move. I just stood there, shivering, while bodies flowed around me, on their own paths, more important to them than anything else.

George got out of the car and ran to me. Huge sunglasses and a hat covered his head, protecting himself from rabid girls.

He stopped right in front of me. I looked up at him, and tears, which had barely dried from earlier, flooded my eyes anew.

"Margo," he said. He spoke the way one would speak to an injured animal, to a child who had scraped his knee, and he was right to do so. I stood for a moment longer, wavering between wholeness and breaking apart like a little china teapot that had fallen to the floor.

And then he took me and pulled me into him, holding me tight. I dropped the suitcase and let him surround me with his rough comfort. It felt good to be squeezed like that. It kept me from breaking apart on the floor.

"He's going to be alright," George said. "Ringo's with him, and he said that he'll be better soon."

Tears still heavily flowing, I said into his shirt, "Then why am I bloody here then?"

Each of us chuckled amidst our grief, and George released his hold on me. "Come 'ead, then. John's waiting for us."

As he opened the car door for me, I asked, "He's not at the hospital?"

George let out a quick sigh. "No, he... uh, got into a bit of trouble." Before closing the door, he said, "I'll explain it on the way."

But as the car began to drive, I was too tired to listen. George realized this, and said nothing. My eyes closed quickly, being pushed down with one single thought: he'll be better soon.

JOHN

A ringing woke me from my painless slumber.

"Ouch," I groaned. "Georgie, would ya get that?"

The phone didn't stop. I suddenly remembered that George wasn't here.

"Oh, Jesus," I muttered, then began to get up. The pain was too much, however, and soon I was back flat on the bed.

The ringing kept on going. I sighed.

"Whoever it is will 'ave to wait." I closed my eyes again, drifting away into sleep.