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Of Shakespeare and CuddlingJohn entered the house, hastily slipping off his coat and toeing off his shoes, eager to see Paul. He set down the newly bought records he'd been holding on the kitchen counter and started to walk through the unusually quiet rooms, "Paul, luv? I got something to show you!"
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"Paa-aaul!" John huffed in annoyance when all the first level rooms turned out to be empty of the other man, so he moved to the staircase, taking them three at a time. "Paulie, dearest, you really are making this difficult."
No answer again.
What was going on? Why wasn't Paul answering? Maybe he was hurt
John quickened his pace. Bathroom? No. Guest room? No. Other guest room? No. Their bedroom?
He creaked the door open, peering into the brightly lit room. "Paul?" The bassist was in the corner of the room, in a big armchair, reading. "Paul, you git, can you hear me?"
Paul kept reading.
Irritated, John stomped up to him and shut the book, effectively startling the younger Beatle, "Christ, Paul