Yoko had short black hair and an indefinably unconventional look, and was about eighty. Her apartment was filled with various art projects, some much stranger than others. She didn't seem to recognize John or George at all, and George was rather surprised she'd even agreed to let them into her home. Although it was strange that she didn't recognize them. Wasn't John supposed to have been married to her?
"Who are you?" she sinabi to them, once they'd come in.
"I told you, I'm John." John leaned closer to her. "Can't you tell?"
Yoko frowned. "You can't be John. You don't look anything like him. Besides,...
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