"Amy, we play this game every day!" A small voice yelled from behind the closet door.
"Shut up, Rory," The girl named Amy yelled in response. "You like this game!"
"No I don't!" Exclaimed Rory, the boy trapped in the closet. "You make me like it, because you're obsessed with him!"
"I am not obsessed!"
"Yes you are! He's all you ever talk about, your raggedy old doctor," Rory stated as he opened the closet door, came out, and shut the door once again. "If you love him so much, why don't you just go marry him?"
"I don't love him!" Amy yelled as she punched Rory's arm out of annoyance.
"I'm going home, Amy," Rory said quietly.
"Fine," Amy replied equally quietly, anger in her voice.
This was the first time anything of the sort had happened. Every day for as long as she could remember, Amy Pond had played "Raggedy Old Doctor" with her best friend, Rory Williams. He had never seemed to have a problem with it before. He always enjoyed being dressed in the oversized, torn dress shirt, with the tussled hair and the silly expressions, having Amy fawn all over him.
Rory had always been different from everyone else. Nobody ever believed her when she told them about her night with the Raggedy Old Doctor. "He's just a myth," they would say. "He's an imaginary friend!" "Amy, you need to grow up!" But Rory listened to her. Rory let her talk about him all day, every day. Rory let her pretend to live out her wildest dreams with the Raggedy Old Doctor. Rory never complained.
Amy didn't understand what had changed. Today was no different than any other day. They talked about the Raggedy Old Doctor, and then they started to play the game, and Rory just exploded.
"And what was all that about me loving my doctor?" Amy asked aloud, still angry with Rory. "I don't love him… why would you say that?" Years later, it would dawn on her that Rory had yelled that simply because he was in love with her, and it hurt his heart to see her so infatuated with another man.
Amy elected to stay in her room for the rest of the day, alone. She didn't leave the room once, not even for dinner.
Some hours later, Amy heard a knock at the door.
"Can I come in?" Asked Amy's aunt, standing outside the door.
"Yeah," Answered Amy, quietly.
The door swung open, and Amy's aunt entered the room, and lightly sat on the edge of the bed.
"What's wrong, pumpkin?" She asked, pushing some of Amy's long, red hair behind her ear.
"Rory's mad at me," Amy replied.
"Why is that?"
"I dunno, I guess it's because of the Doctor."
"Amy, can I tell you something, something you probably won't want to hear?" Her aunt asked, soothingly.
"I guess."
"Amy, sometimes I worry about you. You're always holding on to stars, but sweetie, they're much better from afar. When your star comes too close, it's sure to disappoint you. And that's all this 'Doctor' is: a star."
"But aunt—"
"But Amy, I know. And it's gonna be hard, but it's better to leave this star way off in the distance. It'll always be there to look after you, but you needn't constantly think about it. Okay?"
"Yes ma'am," Answered Amy.
"Good, now get some sleep, pumpkin," Her aunt said, before she left the room.
Amy lied in bed for a while that night, pondering what her aunt had told her. Maybe she was right. Maybe the Doctor was just a star. Maybe he was better from afar. He didn't save her after all, maybe he'd never save her.
