When I wake up, there's a note on the bedside table.

I'm wondering why, exactly, that is because aren't I at my hote-

Oh.

I open the letter as I realized that I am staying at Michael's place.

Fran,

Good morning! I have to go to the studio today, so feel free to lounge around, or just stay in bed because of, you know, your knee.

Mick

Mick? I thought his name was Michael, I guess it's his nickname. I should remember that.

I'm about to limp to the kitchen to find some food when another piece of paper falls from the unfolded one Mick left.

I pick it up carefully and unfold it, it's been scrunched into a tiny ball.

10/12/64

Dear Brian,

I really hope you're going to get this. I'm just going to mail it to your house, or, where I think your house is. It has been something like 9 years. I really hope we can still be friends. You were almost like a brother to me, you were there and I hope you can be here now, cause I've come back. Anyway, when you get this, please write back, I hope we can still be friends!

-Fran

It's my note, why is it my note? My eyes roam a couple of lines down and my breath catches in my throat.

Fran,

Fran rings bell, a small one, but it's a bell. Nine years, really? Actually nine years? I actually forget if I ever said goodbye, but maybe I can say hello?

Brian

P.S if you write back, just leave the note at 2120 South Michigan Avenue, there's a mailbox.

I walk out to the kitchen in a daze. Brian wrote to me. He knows where I am. I could meet him again!!

I quickly write a response to his letter and look at it for a bit while munching on a bagel. Then I get changed into some daytime clothes and limp to the address on the paper, by the time I get there, it's nearing lunchtime

I've just stuck the letter in the mailbox when Mick comes out of the door.

He walks up to me and smiles, "what are you doing here Fran?"

I smile back as I limp toward him, "I was just taking a walk to, um, help my leg get better"

We start walking toward the door and he opens the door for me again.

"Do you want to come for lunch? We were just finishing up a song" he asks politely.

To which I reply, "sure, if I'm not too much of a bother"

"Not at all"

I bite my lip as he walks up ahead, "oh, Mick, you shoulda told me that you called yourself Mick, now I feel silly"

He looks back, "how did you find out I call myself Mick?"

I lift an eyebrow, "you wrote it on the note you left for me this morning, remember?"

He shakes his head and chuckles, "oh, right, well, I guess I'm Mick now!"