"1964!? 1964?! 1964!!!" I exclaimed, making the four boys jump with confusion. I stood there, looking at the carpet trying to comprehend what the hell was happening. John gave a good chuckle and nudged George on the arm, "She really is looney, isn't she Georgie? Hah!" George gave him a 'shut up' look and turned again to look at me from across the room. All four boys were sitting on the couches, staring at me like I was an alien. Except George. He looked concerned. 

                          "Who the hell are you people?!" I said, backing away farther from them. "She really doesn't know who we are, does she?" Paul whispered in Ringo's ear. Ringo looked at him in agreement and turned again to look at me. I could feel all four eyes gleaming at me. George got up from the couch and slowly walked towards me, trying not to startle me. For some reason the closer he got to me, the safer I felt. I slowly lowered the newspaper that I had rolled up for protection, and looked into his deep brown eyes. "I'm George." he said, holding out his hand towards me. "Martha." I said to him, still not taking my eyes off of him. We both smiled at each other at the same time, making my heart melt. He shrugged and put his hand away. "Heh, well I guess they don't do a lot of hand shakin' in America, do they then?" he chuckled as he look down at his feet. I finally snapped out of it and looked down at my hand as I realized I didn't even shake the guy's hand. I'm so stupid, jesus. "Ha, yeah, sorry." I said, my face burning of embarrassment. 

                           "So, um," George said turning to look at the boys and clearing his throat, "Can we all please be civil to this girl? She scared enough as it is. She doesn't even know who we are." The boys looked at each other and gently nodded. "Alright, then. Martha, come sit down with us so we can figure this odd situation out." George said, taking my hand and leading me towards the couch with the rest of the lads. My whole body exploded with fuzziness and warmth as he softly grabbed my hand, making me red as a tomato. I couldn't help myself from slightly smiling to myself, and noticing how strong his hands were. There was something about him that was....extraordinary. 

                         I followed George to an empty couch by the boys and sat in it, George sitting close by me. "So, how did you get in here, love?" Paul asked me, scooting closer to the edge of his couch to indicate he was paying close attention to me. I looked up at him to comprehend his question, and then looked down to the floor. "I don't know, really. If I knew, this would be a lot easier to understand. But I'm just as confused as you guys. Probably even more." I said, still not looking up from the ground. "Well, maybe you were buzzed or something? Were you drinkin' at all?" John said with confusion and some sarcasm. I could tell he didn't believe me at all and I honestly care care less. "No I wasn't 'drinkin'" I glared at him, mocking his British accent. John seemed amused with me. "Well, uh, where do you live, then?" Ringo asked me, his bright blue melancholy eyes beamed at me. "San Francisco." I said, expecting witty remarks from John. "Oh do ya, then?", John said amused with himself, "Alright well, care to explain how you got here from across the United States and not remembered?" My eyebrows furrowed as I was taken back by what he said. Across the United States? 

                         "Wait, what city am I even in?" I asked George, turning to him to find out he was already looking at me. "Well, New York, love." he said, scooting closer to me. I nodded slowly. "Well, okay..." I said, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, "This must be a dream. This is a dream. A dream, that's all! Haha!" I said, trying to fool myself into thinking this wasn't really happening. The boys looked at each other in a bewildered way. "I don't think this is a dream, Martha.." George said, putting a hand on my knee for comfort. I felt his strong hand on my knee, and the feeling was so real, I knew that this wasn't a dream. I looked down at his hand as he took it off my knee, and looked back at me. "Okay, so, what's the last thing you remember, then?" George said, pleased with himself for coming up with that question. I squinted my eyes and looked across the room as I thought really hard to remember. "Well, today is my birthday, y'see," I said, still trying to remember, "My parents got me a birthday cake and I made a wish and blew out the candles. Then I took a nap and woke up here." John let out a laugh, "She must be jokin' us right?" he said looking at George as his smile wiped off his face from the seriousness of George, "....right?" 

                                "I believe her." George said, turning to look at me again. My heart fluttered as I grinned and looked down at my shoes. "Why don't we just tell Brian to ship her on home, then?" Paul suggested to George. Before George could answer him, I quickly replied, "I don't think um...I don't think that's possible." "Well of course it's possible, don't you want to go home then?" Paul asked me. "Of course I do, but..." I looked up at George, "It's seriously not scientifically possible. I'm a lot farther from home then you guys think. I guess I just have to, y'know...journey around New York for now until I find out what the hell is going on." George gave me a stern concerned looked as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "No, Martha, you can stay with us if you'd like." George said, trying to hide his smile. "What?! Are you crazy? Brian will kill us! The press will kill us! The GIRLS will MURDER us!" John exclaimed, standing up from the couch to get his point out to George. "She needs a place to sleep, then! I'm not leaving a girl out in the streets," George shouted back, taking his hand off my shoulder. "Oh George, what have you got yourself into," John replied back, holding his head in his hands with disappointment. "We'll help her find her home and then she'll be on her way, deal?" John said, putting his hand out towards George. George looked about me as he thought about this agreement and made the conclusion to shake his hand. "Deal."