It was a crisp evening in New York City on August 22, 2025. The air outside Madison Square Garden carried a slight chill, but inside, the arena was buzzing with energy. Thousands of fans had packed the venue, eager to witness Paul McCartney perform some of the greatest hits of The Beatles. Among them, the anticipation was electric — the lights dimmed, the opening chords of “Hey Jude” rang out, and the audience erupted in cheers.
As the concert progressed, Paul took a deep breath and introduced a song that held a profoundly personal meaning: “Here Today.” The song, written decades ago as a tribute to his late friend John Lennon, always carried a tinge of sorrow and nostalgia. But that night, something unusual caught Paul’s eye.
In the front row, an elderly man sat alone, visibly moved. His hands clutched an old, yellowed sketch of John and Paul as young men, sitting on a Liverpool sidewalk, guitars in hand, singing with innocent joy. Tears streamed down the man’s cheeks, and though he tried to remain composed, his trembling hands betrayed the depth of his emotions. Something about him seemed familiar, yet mysterious — as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.
The performance ended, and the crowd erupted into applause. Yet Paul, sensing the significance of the man’s presence, asked his team to bring him backstage. Security hesitated at first, but Paul insisted. As the man approached, he handed over a worn envelope. “I was John’s schoolmate,” he said quietly, voice barely audible over the residual cheers. “I’ve kept this for 60 years, waiting for the right person to give it to.”
Paul’s fingers trembled slightly as he took the envelope. The handwriting on the outside was familiar yet foreign — it seemed like a message frozen in time. He carefully opened it and unfolded a single sheet of yellowed paper. On it, in a delicate, flowing script, were words that made his heart stop:
“If I go first, don’t cry — I’ll still play rhythm when you sigh.”
For a moment, time seemed to halt. Paul raised his eyes to the New York night sky, a shiver running down his spine. Could it really be from John? Could this have been written decades ago, kept in secret, and finally delivered on a night like this? He could feel the presence of his old friend, as if John’s spirit had orchestrated the encounter himself.
