The shape next to her mumbles and rolls over. "Mmmmm."
Millie slides out of bed, flinches when her feet touch the cold wooden floor, and goes to the window. She parts the blinds. Sunlight forces her back for a moment, but her eyes adjust. What she sees drives a spike through her already hangover-addled skull.
The street below is devoid of cars. Now covered with ruddy cobblestones, she traces it to the distance and finds the source of the sound: a black carriage, polished to a high gloss, pulled by two horses.
"Jerry. My God. It's happened."
Millie's mouth hangs open but her tongue can't form around the three little syllables: Y-2-K.
Yeah, lame, but I haven't stayed up until 2 AM in a long, long time. Too bad the kids didn't get the memo to sleep in until noon. Happy New Year! Resolutions forthcoming.