"You didn't do this, Jack, I did," the Doctor said. "She could've moved on without me, but I---well, I---"

He let out a quiet sigh. It was so sad, everything that had happened. And it had happened because of the Doctor. Because of the Doctor and the universe and loneliness and---

Before he could properly register it, he was suddenly swinging his arm out violently, knocking over the lamp and the contents of his bedside table. The lamp shattered against his hand and went flying across the side of the room, and the rest of the table followed suit, scattering across the floor.