Clarissa Fairchild sat on a bench in central park, she sat with her feet on the wood planks so her thin thighs propped up her sketch book. Clary traced the door frame of a little, blue, wooden box that sat peacefully under a tree, it was not there the last few times Clary went to the park, its sudden appearance was a mystery. Deep in thought, Clary glanced between her paper and the box, she drew the small windows, the light on top, and etched in the words “Police Call Box” above the door. “May I sit here?” asked a British man’s voice, Clary broke her concentration to look up at the owner of the words; a tall, skinny man wearing a brown suit and red tie under a long trench coat that reached his red Converse high tops, his hair was spiked and his eyes were sad. “Sure” said Clary, she scooted over for the man, he sat down in silence. “Drawing that police box right there?” the man asked, after minutes of silence, Clary nodded, her red curls shook. “You know, those used to be all over England in the sixties, the police would just lock the criminal inside and make a call” the man explained, Clary was silent as she continued sketching. “You would probably know because your from there,” Clary said “England, I mean” the man shook his head “I’m not, actually.” Clary ceased drawing, she placed her feet on the grass, littered with withering leaves, her sketch book on her lap. “Then where else in the world has and accent like yours?” Clary asked, she turned her head to the man “nowhere, New Zealand, maybe” replied the man, his eyes were on the blue box. “What’s your name?” Clary asked, “I’m the Doctor” the man answered.
“Doctor who?”
“Just the Doctor.”

Clary turned her head back to the blue box, there was something she felt, a connection, one between the blue box and this Doctor person. “My name’s Clary” said the redhead, “that’s a nice name” the Doctor said, the silence returned. “This might sound stupid,” said Clary, she turned her head back to the Doctor, he glanced at her “but is the box yours?” The Doctor smiled on the left of his mouth, closed his eyes, nodded, and said “yes.”
“How did you get it here?”
“I’ll show you.”

The Doctor stood up, Clary slid her pencil in her pocket, placed her sketch book under her arm, and stood up. She and the Doctor went over to the box, the Doctor stepped ahead of Clary and took a small key out of his pocket, he slid it into the lock on the door. Clary felt excited for a strange reason, it’s just a box, she thought, why am I getting worked up about it? The Doctor opened the door and gestured Clary to enter. Clary entered the box and was amazed at what was inside. “I can take you through all of time and space” said the Doctor “where do you want to start?”