My Daughter
Amy parked her car on the side of the road and gazed up at the dark sky. 384,400 kilometers away, Charles Conrad and Alan Bean were walking on the moon. It was infuriating to know exactly where two people, so far away, that she'd never even met were, but her daughter, who was somewhere in the very same state, was lost to her.
Sesame Street had broadcast for the first time ten days earlier and Amy had spent the entire time fantasizing about what it would be like to sit in front of the television with Melody, playing with blocks and singing their ABCs. Not that she would ever get that with her daughter. The last time she'd seen her, in Graystark Hall, she'd been a little girl, about the age Amy herself had been when she'd first met The Doctor. All that precious time, wasted. They were never meant to be happy. Except, of course, the one framed photograph of her smiling with Melody in her arms, and she didn't even remember it. Surely a trick of The Silence; surely it served them somehow, to create the illusion of beauty from terror.
As she got out of the car and turned on her flashlight, Amy wondered if somehow, somewhere, Melody was also staring up at the moon and wondering the same things. Maybe just a few inches away, maybe a few feet, maybe, maybe, maybe…just around the corner?
