01 GEORGE HARRISON

˙⊹「 London, 1969 」⊹˙

It was already the third time the session had been halted because someone was arguing with someone else. George, sitting in a corner with his guitar on his lap, said nothing, but his silence weighed more than any shout. You had decided to show up unannounced, with a small basket and his lunch. You wanted to break the tension, even for your husband. When you saw him, the tiredness was evident even in his eyes: those sweet eyes now seemed dull, sunken by days of recordings, egos, and rehearsals that were no longer leading to anything.

—. I brought you something, in case you haven't eaten —you said with a smile. —Thanks, love… —he murmured, looking up and putting the guitar aside, he seemed really pleased with your little unexpected visit.

He opened the small package: a couple of sandwiches, an apple, and those cookies he liked so much. For a moment, he seemed to relax; he even took your hand as if he needed to remember that there was still something real amidst all the chaos.

But then, as if the universe were determined to ruin what little calm remained, Yoko approached. She was talking to John about an arrangement without looking at anyone else, until her hand reached out and casually took one of George's cookies.

The gesture was minimal, but it ignited something deep in George His brow furrowed immediately, his hands tensing on the table, color rising to his cheeks. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, just took a deep breath, trying to contain himself. —You know what? —he finally said, getting up from his seat in a husky, restrained voice* —Let's go, now.