This is me. A face in the crowd so easily forgotten. A ghost. I turn and walk away. Fade to nothing.
I walk across time and space, no longer bound, a traveller. I sing with the music of time yet my life is so quiet. I can feel life. People's lives are like questions sparking around me, they could be anything, anyone, they could change the world. They could be snuffed out in an instant yet they shine so brightly while my life remains a steady, solid fact, dull with overuse. I am old.
I stand still just for a moment and lean against the police railing, watching, waiting. Time flows over me. I can feel the Doctor, just around the corner, his life sparking and spitting, a tightly wound fiery ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey manic energy, dashed with darkness and loss. So delicious. So tempting.
So close.
Even more tempting is the TARDIS, her heart is calling to me, she's always been calling to me, ever since I looked into her and she looked into me but to have her so close is almost unbearable. I can feel her life, ancient and timeless, infused with the collective memories of all the TARDISs, brightened by her wild streak and an all pervading love for her Time Lord. She sings, her life sings. She sings songs that weave into the time vortex and for those who are blessed enough to hear them, there is no greater pleasure but to drown in them.
I close my eyes, take a breath, steady myself. Not now. It's not time. I turn and fade away, nobody looks twice, it's impossible after all, just a trick of the light, and I'm gone, forever a ghost.
And poor little Sylvia is left searching for her keys.