A/N: Thought of this around 6:15 am in my head while half awake, and wrote it down about fifteen minutes later. Did some editing later, but it's mostly the raw story.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who: Not mine
It's as she is walking down Winching Street that she sees him. He's a thin, tall bloke in a trench coat (Who even wears those anymore? she thinks.) with some admittedly great hair. The first thing she thinks is, No use there, he's just a thin bit of nothing! Hug him too tight, and you get a paper cut. She chuckles to herself, and then realizes that it feels weird to think that. It's almost like she's thought it before, but that's impossible; she's never seen this man in her life.
The second thing she thinks is entirely stranger. The man is walking down the street on his own, and it strikes her that he is entirely too lonely. It's incredibly odd for this to occur to her—how does she know he's not off to meet someone at a shop, or something? It doesn't matter, though, as she can decisively picture this man with a girl at his side: a blonde, or a black woman in a lab coat, or…her. That's the strangest thought she's had all day, but she doesn't have time ot ponder it, because suddenly her head is consumed with pain, and she's sinking to her knees.
The last thing she sees is the man running towards her, as two desperate thoughts revolve around her head.
Take me with you, please. I don't need any hatboxes. And, even more distressing: Forever. Forever. We were supposed to travel forever.
When she wakes up, she's in her own bed, fully dressed, with a feeling of uneasy desperation settled in the pit of her stomach.