The Doctor

You would, wouldn't you? If he turned up now, at the front door, knocking loudly, on a cold, dreich December night, the sink  piled high with dishes, washing strewn from upstairs down, bills across the kitchen table detailing debts to be paid, the woodpile lower than you would like, a fridge half empty, work tomorrow (the same as the day before), a hoover needing emptied, responsibilities everywhere, an oven to be cleaned- life somehow being half-lived no matter how hard you try to live ... 

You'd go. Time and space. Yours. Running.