There are no patterns in the clouds.
Sure, stratocumulus clouds could sometimes look like a dragon or a fire-breathing cat, but they weren't actually those things.
They can be if you put your mind to it, Doctor. Wren was adamant.
In all honesty, he was more focused on holding her hand than looking up at the shapes in the clouds.
Parked in the lower atmosphere, they were looking at the clouds hung low over England from the other side.
Wren was loving it, pointing out cloud shapes and naming them, like she once did with the stars.
But the Doctor was only half listening, as usual.
He was more focused on how close she was, the feel of her hand in his, the way her fingers dug into his hand every time she wanted his attention.
It usually didn't work, she would just fix him with a look until he bothered to turn his head, and then she'd laugh.
What? What are you laughing at, Wren? Do I have something on my face?
She never answered him, instead moving closer and pointing out more clouds.
She found one that looked like an anchor.
*Glory - Bastille
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Doctor Who: Really Tiny Short Stories
FanfictionThe bloody TARDIS. Of course, that was a brilliant idea; show everyone the Doctor's muddled clumps of memories... So I found some things in an old document of mine, and decided to publish them because why not? As the title says, they are very, VERY...
