A/N: Hi guys! This is my first Paperman fanfiction! Let me know what you think! DISCLAIMER: I don't own George or Meg, Disney does!
It was a blustery morning in New York City. Meg Kittinger rose to the sound of her alarm clock, its trilling noise reverberating back and forth inside of Meg's head. Scratching her head, Meg lightly hopped out of her bed, turning off her obnoxious alarm clock and heading to the bathroom of her high-rise apartment. Her bare feet pitter-pattered across the wooden floorboards, dodging the plethora of boxes she still had to unpack from her move to the Big Apple.
It's going to be one windy day, Meg thought to herself as she heard the shutters outside her window rattling audibly.
But also, Meg thought to herself, it's interview day! She carefully combed her tawny brown hair and pulled her business outfit out of her closet. Her outfit consisted of a carmine red blouse, worn below a gray cardigan and a black pencil skirt, and some fun—but professional, Meg reminded herself—pumps that her sister had given her as a parting gift when Meg had moved to New York.
Meg then checked her watch. Oh no! It's 8:22! I can't miss this interview! She hurriedly grabbed her purse and left her apartment building, applying her favorite shade of deep red lipstick as she headed to her first job interview since she had moved from her parents' house in small-town Texas.
It was a long story, the reason why Meghan Louise Kittinger moved from hodge-podge Katy to the city that never sleeps. She had recently graduated from college, and she had decided it was due time to go out and see the world. Or, at least, New York.
However, Meg's parents wanted her to settle down. She had turned 23 that May, and her mother and father were scoping out Katy's eligible bachelors: rich, snooty country gents that Meg didn't want to affiliate herself with. When she had heard of her parents' plans, she was exasperated. It was 1944, for crying out loud! She could make decisions for herself! For Meg, moving to New York was her way of declaring her independence, and it was also a self-inflicted challenge to find her soulmate.
Meg was reminiscing on these thoughts when she arrived at the train station, wondering about the day when her prince would come
It was just another Monday for New Yorker George Litwak. He woke to the sound of his cat, Tiggy. Yes, a grown 25-year-old man had a cat. And yes, it was affectionately named Tiggy. Tiggy had been meowing restlessly at 7:45 in the morning, and George begrudgingly dragged himself out of bed.
"Good morning to you, too," George muttered to the tabby cat that stared at him. Rubbing his eyes with with hands, George stumbled into the dimly-lit bathroom of his dingy apartment and turned on the radio. No, he had no idea why there was a radio next to his sink. Bing Crosby crooned the latest hits while George combed his scruffy dark brown hair and brushed his teeth.
"I love you," George harmonized along with his static-y radio. Tiggy meowed in what seemed to be exasperation as George took his uneager cat in his arms, attempting to dance to the beat with the feline.
"That's the song of songs," George sung into his toothbrush, with Tiggy draped on his shoulder, "and it all belongs to you and me."
After putting on his business attire, George walked past past his empty hallway to the kitchen, and managed to assemble out of his food rations a meager plate of scrambled eggs before exiting his humble abode. He definitely couldn't miss his train to work for the second time in the past seven days. His superior, Mr. Kraut, already hated George enough, and would find any reason to pick on the gangly, six-foot-five man.
"Bye, Tigs," George said to his cat as he scruffed up her polished mane. George walked out with the sound of Tiggy's scratching meowing reverberating through his ears, not looking forward to the berating he'd get from Mr. Kraut that morning.