Literature
(Chapter 4) Macca, my dear
John Lennon P.O.V
Now I'm engaged with the man that drives me crazy. Our engagement rings are thin and made of silver, with the date July 6 scripted.
But there's one slight problem: my fiancée is crying curled against me at the side of our bed, and my heart aches at an indescribable way, of seeing my love carrying such pain and sorrow.
That's what happens when you're so naïve, and get blind by the love and happiness you have; like if the rest of the world agreed to spoil our plans.
This early morning, we woke up determined to go to a court and ask all the requirements for getting married. We didn't know anything about what do yo