The Angel's Touch
A Wisterian Princess short story
A comfy comfy pillow... That's where Rose wished she could be. At home, in the TARDIS.
Instead, Rose was stuck in the eighteen hundreds as a barmaid, waiting for the Doctor to find her.
It was sort of peculiar when that strange angel statue had appeared before her right before she ended up in the nineteenth century. Now all she could do was wait for the Doctor...
Rose wiped down the table of the pub she now worked at. It wasn't really an unpleasant job, being a barmaid. She got paid a decent wage, and she was allowed to stay in the attic of the pub, so long as she worked around the clock.
"Morning," said a girl that worked with Rose as a barmaid.
"Morning, Clara."
"Did you sleep?" asked Clara, putting on her apron.
"No," said Rose yawning, "not a wink. I was cleaning all night."
Clara gave a scolding look. "How can you work if you're knackered?"
Rose glanced down at the now spotless table she'd wiped down. "I am working," she said, moving to another table.
Clara got a cloth and began washing the dishes. "Did you get the delivery of eggs? I wanted to make souffles!" Called Clara from the back.
Rose rolled her eyes. That was Clara's favorite thing to do, and she always used up all of the ingredients while doing so.
(Later...)
Rose walked down the street, looking up at the sky. It was full of stars, which made her think of the Doctor. She sighed. It had been almost two months since she'd last seen him, and she missed him. Rose wondered for a brief second if she would see him again, then quickly dismissed the thought, knowing that she would.
She shivered when a light icy breeze came through, then she heard an unmistakable sound: the sound of the TARDIS engines. He'd found her. She was going home.