Junk - Paul McCartney (angst)

35 0 4
                                    


1970 

----

It had been a hard night, and now a sunshine filled day. But Paul didn't feel very much of that sunshine. 

He got out of bed, at ten in the morning, the time he'd normally be at the studio, but not today. 

Sighing, he put on a coat and grabbed his wallet and keys, heading outside as he slipped on shoes. 

Instead of driving to the shops, like usual, the musician decided to walk.  Fresh air would do him some good.

--

He stopped at a coffee shop and ordered a cup of tea and a plain croissant, and sat down, staring out the window that was slightly fogged up from the cold.

Paul's eyes started to get fogged up with emotion, and he could feel tears threaten to fall. He felt his eyes and throat hurt from holding it back. 

"Don't cry, Paul, there's.. no reason to. Crying for no-one." He muttered as he looked up at the ceiling to prevent the waterworks coming on.

-

After a few minutes, he was finished with breakfast. A waiter came by to take his plate and empty cup, and then Paul give him a tip.

"Cheers, sir. Have a nice day." The waiter said with a small smile.

"You too, thanks." Paul replied and returned to the cold sidewalk, shivering for a moment.

He wandered around, and noticed all of the shops. There were many signs that spoke of sales, and said "Buy!" and looked rather welcoming. 

-

He hummed as if debating whether to buy anything, but wasn't that interested. So he kept walking as he thought deeply. 

"I could go and record something.. No." 

Finally, on the way to home, there was a record shop. That was one place he did go inside. 

A man greeted him, saying there was a discount on jazz and blues records, Paul thanked him and looked around for a while. 

-

Paul chose an Billie Holiday album and paid for it. Then he left, heading home.

The house was empty, and he placed the purchase down with a music collection, deciding he didn't want to hear anything right now, basked in silence.

With another sigh, he glanced at the things around the house, and outside in the yard. "So much junk.." 

"Why has my life happened this way..?" He wondered aloud, longingly admiring the photographs of his friends and family.

---------------

word count: 386

✨ Oneshots ✨Where stories live. Discover now