John Lennon 🪲 #9

1978
You are 13 years old
It was a cold December morning, and the city was completely immersed in the Christmas spirit. You were walking through the streets when you saw a poster of him. It didn't surprise you; you were used to it. It was something you had seen since childhood. It made you feel a bit uneasy, especially since you had gone for a walk to clear your head from the stress of school. It was hard being John Lennon's daughter. Especially when it felt like you barely mattered to him. You quickly ran the errand your mother had asked you to do and returned home.
At home, you spend the afternoon in the living room with your mother and stepfather before you finally decide to do it. You decide to call him. It was Christmas, and it was time to be with family.
The two of you hardly speak lately. It has been two years since the last time you visited him. You pick up the phone and sneak into the kitchen to dial his number.
It rings several times until a sleepy voice is heard. "Shit," you think. You forgot that it was probably very late where he lived, in New York. Before you could hang up, he spoke.
"Who the hell is this? It's 4 in the morning, for fuck's sake!"