A slump-shouldered woman argued with the counterman about a lost train case, a Beatle-haired boy sat picking at his acne, and the Doctor fumed. He'd assured the Brigadier and Liz he could manage the short hop from UNIT HQ to Aberdeen, but the TARDIS had balked even at terrestrial travel today.

He'd have to find a vehicle for himself on Earth soon, something as fast and elegant as this pathetic planet could manage. But he certainly wasn't about to give the Brigadier the satisfaction by asking for his help now.

So he sat in the station, waiting for his bus.

"Terrible Places" 031016 by merripestin at yahoo dot com
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