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North American (General)Transcript
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When Abigail woke up on the morning of the 12th of September 2025 she knew immediately something had changed. Well, perhaps that might be a slight exaggeration. First, she sneezed and rubbed her eyes and stumbled to the kitchen to make a coffee. But then she noticed that something was very different. The light in her wonky kitchen had an odd glow, and there was a strange buzzing in the air. And instead of the depressing gray she was used to seeing every morning when she opened the kitchen curtains, the sky was distinctly purple, purple sky. In the morning. Shepherd's warning, she mumbled. I think it's red Sky, ms, but this is definitely a warning. All right. Ho, ho, ho, laughed the jolly little man outside the window. Abigail pulled her dressing gown tightly around herself and waved before going back to pour her coffee. It was then she remembered, that she lived on the eighth floor and she didn't have a balcony.