(no subject)
Sarah Jane is wrapped in an all too familiar scarf, settled on a sofa in the lobby with a cup of tea and several sheets of loose paper. She thinks she had intention of writing something, of her findings here, notes to herself, but it's lost on her for the moment.
Instead, Sarah is staring at the paper, lips pursed and lost in thought.
She'd love company, we're sure.
Instead, Sarah is staring at the paper, lips pursed and lost in thought.
She'd love company, we're sure.