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CHIPS AND VINEGAR



The Doctor fantasized about being wrong.

It usually happened when he didn’t have something to distract him; those few, blinking moments between sleep and wakefulness, or when he caught a glimpse of a face and thought, for one hearts-stopping moment, it looked familiar. He pictured it in his mind; the shock, the joy, the moment when all the pain and guilt leeched away.

He never dreamed it would come true in a chip shop in London

And yet there she was. Her hair, dark and bobbed, cut sharply against her neck; her face, rounded and young. She stood, leaning against the counter and holding aloft a chip; staring at it with a weary and clinical eye. The Doctor slowed his step; still not certain, not sure.

“You know, I never really understood your fascination with this planet,” she drawled, waggling the chip doubtfully. “Will it taste any better with vinegar?”

A slow smile spread across his face as he slid the vinegar bottle towards her. “Hello, Romana,” he said. “Long time, no see.”

FINIS

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