Turn of a Millennia
The woman lay on the grass of a park, watching fireworks burst and sparkle overhead. A silver moon mask lay beside her, a match to her shimmery outfit. These humans, so excited by the turn of a single year, so ready to celebrate life. When life was so short that's what you did, she supposed, celebrate every moment. One year is so much to a being that has little more than eighty of them.
She'd turned fifty-seven two days ago. She'd started counting eventually, once the years became so many that she couldn't go home. The mirror gave her no clues, wouldn't for a very long time. Her parents were in their eighties and she looked twenty-six still. She could go to a party and dance with humans less than half her age, didn't they have a word for that?
She sighed. She didn't belong with humans anymore. Maybe she never had. She stood and began to walk, it wasn't long before she heard voices. She followed them to find a man and woman and a blue box. She knew that box anywhere.
"Doctor?" She called after the woman had left and the man in the cravat was about to enter his box.
