(no subject)
January was one of Donna's least favourite months. All the good sales were over, everybody was gradually emerging from the drunken haze of the holidays, and London was a particularly unappealing shade of grey, from the clouds that stubbornly refused to produce snow to the slush underfoot. If she'd had money, she would've gone somewhere else for a bit - the south of France, maybe, or Italy. In her current financial situation, though, she couldn't even afford a weekend in Brighton (not that she wanted one). She just felt...restless.
She paused at a street crossing and glanced back over her shoulder for a moment. "Are you coming?" Her tone was a bit sharper than she'd intended it to be - god, she was starting to sound like her mum sometimes, and that was a terrifying thought.
She paused at a street crossing and glanced back over her shoulder for a moment. "Are you coming?" Her tone was a bit sharper than she'd intended it to be - god, she was starting to sound like her mum sometimes, and that was a terrifying thought.