Her neighbor is a strange man.
Donna Noble accepted this a long time ago.
But she'd never figured out what made him so.
It could have been the way he was always vanishing, stealing away in the middle of the night and not coming back for weeks.
It could've been his friends, be they the young redhead, her timid lover, or the brunette with sparkling eyes who looks at her like she's a long-dead hero. They are strange, in their own right.
Most likely, though, it's the man himself.
His name's John Smith, and who would actually name their child John Smith in the first place?
He's tall, thin, but not the kind of thin wherein she'd be afraid to get a paper cut. More of the type of thin seen in one of those coffee stirrers at the cafes. The kind that bent easily.
That didn't make sense, really.
She's found that she hardly ever makes sense as of late.
Her neighbor doesn't make much sense, either; Always talking of things centuries past as if he'd been there yesterday. Occasionally, he'll come over for tea, and will end up mentioning a part of Donna's past she doesn't remember telling him.
She can never remember what happens after that.
In fact, she occasionally forgets what the man even looks like; Forgets floppy brown hair and a strong chin and a smile like a five-year-olds'.
The only things she does remember, however, are his eyes: A glowing bottle-green dulled by age and pain unbelievable.
Occasionally, she sees a bit of herself in them.
She shakes her head, picking up her neighbor's mail while he's gone for the umpteenth time.
There's only one letter in the box this time. Curious, she flips it over, reading the return address.
Mr. & Mrs. Mickey Smith, the letter reads, and she wonders if they're relatives. Powell Estate, London. Why does that sound familiar?
The handwriting on the envelope is curling and uniform, most likely a woman's.
It's then that she notices just who the letter is addressed to.
The Doctor
The address on the letter is John's, yes, but she's never heard of 'The Doctor.'
Something inside her stirs, and she wonders if that's completely true.
'The Doctor?' Doctor Who?
'Just the Doctor,' Her mind supplies, in a voice like a man's.
She frowns, eyes watering from a sudden headache, and sets the letter back into the box.
She goes inside her own home, falling quickly asleep on the couch.
When she awakes, there is a package of Belgian Chocolates on her step, a note lying atop the lid.
Don,
Thanks for getting the mail. I'll pick it up later.
-JS
Her neighbor is a strange man.
Donna Noble accepted this a long time ago.