[A part of her is dying to stop talking about this. She can't own up to the fact that she and the Doctor aren't good for one another. That he's unable to let her go and would tear apart the universe to save her and keep her with him. And that as long as he remembers her, she's unlikely to ever stop being pulled back into his orbit. Their friendship is unhealthy, co-dependent. It's a risk to the entire universe.

But more than that, she doesn't want to say that she realizes she doesn't need him.

Clara finds herself leaning in toward him, hand pressed against the top of his thigh. She leans in until her nose brushes against his, and lips seeking out his in a tender kiss. It's short and sweet, her smile content as she's pleased just to be close to him.]

I would have turned thirty about a week ago, if my math serves me correctly. Or I guess my birthday came and went same as any other year, now that I'm here. It's the first time in years I've felt ready to try being someone else.

[Only because she knows she has to be. But he gives her hope and strength, in thinking that she can be something more. That there's more for her out there after she erases the Doctor's memories of her and steals away her own time machine. There has to be something more than just that.]

Because with the Doctor, it feels like I've known him for billions of years. The reality of it is I've only known him for...three or four years?

[Could it really be so little? It feels like she's lived an entire lifetime at the Doctor's side. But he's changed her so much in such a short time. And she knows she's made an impact on who the Doctor is, and will one day become. She cares for him so much, but has a newfound understanding that their time together is limited. Not even being here on the station together can change that.]

Being here, this is our last hurrah.