A/N: This story is about the Eleventh Doctor. Takes place some time after Amy and Rory are lost. (The first chapter was put up several years ago.)

The doctor was bored. It seemed to be a perpetual state for him, especially with no companion at the moment. The pangs of the thought sent him desperately looking for something to do. His endless repairing of the TARDIS was not a welcome distraction at the moment. One could only fiddle so long. It was more something he did when he had a companion. His mind again skittered away from the painful subject.

With lack of anything better to do and feeling too depressed to start a new adventure at the moment, he mindlessly reached for his sonic screwdriver. Instead, he pulled out a wind-up mouse. Curious, he decided that he really ought to discover what was all in his pockets. It never failed to amaze him.

A broken pocket watch. Several bow-ties. You never could have too many. A bottle of water. There was his sonic screwdriver. He wondered how it had fallen down so far. A book called 'Death in the Clouds'. A real screwdriver. What could he want with one of those! He really had too many things to count.

He reached down and pulled out a clear bag containing two pieces of tissue paper. He stared at them for a long time. He couldn't remember transferring them from one coat to the next, these seemingly insignificant pieces of pink and red paper. Delicate, flimsy things by nature. He really should throw them out or put them in a safe place. It's not like they had any use, no need for him to carry them around. Yet, he couldn't find it in himself. He sighed as he placed the bag back into his pocket. Rememberings of a companion from another age.