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He stood there. Alone. Again. Yes, he knew they always had to leave. Yes, he knew there would be others. There always were. He didn’t feel any better. Because now, his years stretching out behind him like shadows cast by the setting sun, the only future he could see was... ...darkness. He stood cold in a room perfectly warm. He felt an empty hollowness growing larger. This is what he got for allowing himself to feel. He reached for the controls, his hands tangling in his scarf. Angrily, ineffectually, he thrust it away. Slowly, he worked the levers and dematerialized...


Written in 1999 or 2000. Maybe 1998. I don't remember.
No Doctor specified. Probably 7th.

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