Destiny casts no shadow as he walks through his garden. His blind eyes read every page of the book chained to his arms. He knows he should not express opinion on the truths therein, but feels a thrill as the one known as The Doctor appears once more within its pages.
He frowns. Surely not…? How can it be…?
Destiny stumbles, flipping pages back and forth. For the first time in his Endless existence, the book confuses him. Surely even the Doctor’s existence could not be this complex?
Then an inspiration: the frontispiece.
The confusion explained:
Written by Lawrence Miles
He sat on the bridge between the Dreaming and her own realm when she found him, thin and blond this time.
“Hello,” he beamed. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” But when she smiled, he remembered and his face fell. “Oh. You. Does that mean I’m… Are you going to…?”
“Maybe one day, but not today.”
From behind her, a brightly coloured head poked, surrounded by kaleidoscopic butterflies.
“i’M DeL. sIs sAYs yoU cHanGE A loT, bUt nOt liKe UNdeRWeAr. CaN i, uM, DeSiGn yOu nEXt tIme?”
The Doctor smiled. “Why not?”
Death giggled. “You’re going to regret saying that, you know.”
The mourners wore black. The Doctor wore every other colour. He told Peri that funerals should be a time of celebration. “Life is ephemeral for the individual, but eternal for society.”
Peri replied that the melancholy atmosphere at funerals was necessary. The Doctor shushed her. “Killjoy.”
On his other side, a friend of the deceased was sobbing her heart out. Passing her a heliotrope handkerchief, he placed a kindly hand on her arm. “He was a happy man,” he told her. “In his memory, let happiness prevail.”
Helen A looked at this brightly garbed stranger. She would do her best.