₊˚. 𝐆eorge 𝐇arrison ༄ ⩩

The cool morning breeze at the train station was light, almost imperceptible; everything was very quiet despite everything. Though not so quiet for you, as you'd been struggling with your suitcase for the past few minutes.

You were a very pretty but still little-known model, trying to get your heavy suitcase to the train, which, by the way, seemed like it would be leaving in just a few minutes, and you couldn't do anything but drag it, or well, try to.

You looked around for some staff, but there was no one nearby, you sighed, and you stood there silently staring at the suitcase.

"You're a traitor," you muttered, and looked away towards the train, sighing again.

"Do you need any help, miss?" A young man's voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was George Harrison. You stared at him for a few seconds, almost incredulous. "It seems your suitcase refuses to board the train," George remarked with a small smile.