“Mummy, what’s that,” the child with the wild light brown curls asks while pointing at a tree.
“That, my dear Melody, is a Police Call Box. Almost a hundred years ago, they used to sit on the street corner. It kinda seems out of place, doesn’t it?” The older woman looks down at the child to see her nodding. “Want to know why? Because its not a police box. Not really.”
“Then what is it Mummy,” the child questioned with a look of pure curiosity.
“It is wonderful. It is magical. It is full of memories as time and space. A mad man lives there, in that blue box of his. His name is The Doctor and that, my River, is the TARDIS and you will find your future husband.