Do I really need to tell you that we had an argument? It ended with me stomping angrily to my room, slamming the door shut as I did so.
This morning I wake up, of course. Grumpily grumbling complaints in Gallifreyan, I stumble off to the bathroom as the floor threatens to freeze my toes off.
The bathroom is all steamy and wet, like a jungle. She had woken up earlier than I. Sighing, I hop into the shower.
Rassilon, it's FREEZING! There is absolutely positively no way I can get myself clean in THIS frigid water.
I get out, dry myself with my favorite towel and get dressed again. Turning to leave, I notice the souvenir T-shirt I had gotten for her on Sh'Morkan 5 hanging on the hook on the door.
I remember: We are weaving through the hot, crowded market stalls. I lead the way. When I look back, I see that she has stopped at one of the booths. She is haggling with the six-tentacled slimy alien stallkeeper for a white T-shirt that reads "Sh'Morkan 5 or Bust". And she is doing a pretty bad job of it. I come beside her, gently assure her that I will get it for her, and eventually get it for 50 Sh'moobies.
Later, in the TARDIS, the look on her face as she wears the shirt is beautiful. It is happiness and love and thankfulness all rolled into one.
She kisses me.
And I kiss her back. That is all.
As I stand here in the bathroom, staring at that precious shred of the happy memories from long ago, I feel remorse for my actions the night before.
"Oh, Rose," I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, "I am so sorry."
Ten minutes later, I'm sitting at the kitchen table, more than slightly unhappy at myself. Now, the fight we had last night seems like a petty little thing. She comes to the table and sits at the chair opposite mine.
It is a few minutes before she speaks, but it feels like a few hours. I notice her eyes are swollen and red, as if she's spent hours crying. Then again, knowing her, I bet she has. "Doctor, I'm sorry for making a mess of everything yesterday," she says. "I really don't know why I was being all cranky. Will you forgive me?"
How can I not forgive her? She's my best friend in the whole wide universe.
"Yes," I finally answer. "I forgive you. Will you forgive me for being a complete ass yesterday?"
I find the tension mounting. What if she doesn't say yes? What if she gets angry and dramatic, as I am so used to her doing, and yells at me and runs out of the room? What if--
"Of course," she answers. I relax. And so does the tension in the air. It melts away and vanishes, leaving a peaceful feeling. I don't know what it is, and I don't care. Maybe it is peace itself.
She smiles, and the look on her face conveys happiness, and forgiveness, and possibly a dozen other feelings.
"Thanks," I say. I find myself smiling: a happy grin, as though I know that the storm has finally passed. And I do.
And suddenly I find that I'm no longer angry at her.