It's him, The Doctor, alone in the TARDIS. He walks slowly in circles around the console. Round and round the same course, it's a wonder he hasn't worn a track into the floor. Every once in a while he'll flip a switch here, or turn a knob there, push a button, but he's really not paying attention.
He'd like to say that he was contemplating the origins of being, or perhaps solving the riddle to some great mystery. Yeah, he'd like to say that, but he can't. His mind continues to float over the past, both recent and long ago. It's almost amusing. The more he changes the more some things remain the same. Really, it's not that amusing at all.
With a sigh he flips another switch. There's a hope for inspiration but he's not truly expecting any to come. He needs a distraction. A distraction would be good and he looks around the console room for an idea, any idea. But nothing comes to mind however and he continues his counter-clockwise journey.
The thought of going somewhere crosses him mind, but he has no idea where to go. He's been so many places and really there are still so many out there to see. Really the list is endless and even in his extended lifetime he'll never get to see it all. In it's own way that's kind of a reassuring thought...
Ya know, he'd always meant to go see... It doesn't matter. There is always a place he'd want to see but it's not the same seeing it alone. His greatest joy is showing a companion something new. The light of awe on their face as he shows them something they never could have imagined. The thrill of taking someone to a place they could never have been to on their own. Really this is what makes his life worthwhile. Well, that and all the running. He has to admit that he quite enjoys the running, but again it's so much more fun with others.
Alone... Alone it just seems so... ordinary.
Word Count: 345
