Sandra Lawson was sitting in her Model T on the side of the road. "You're a Bully for Cozying up to Me" by The Sighs was squawking on the radio. She turned the radio off.
For no apparent reason, she felt for her earlobe and her ankle and her hangnail. They were all there. That was good. Also, her little finger was not swelling. That was good, too.
She felt big. She must have had quite a nap. What time is it? She looked at the clock. Twelve a.m. About what you'd expect, still on schedule. The nap had taken no time at all.
She looked out the window. There was a dumpster visible across the road, but nothing special to see. Probably time to get going. She started up her Model T and took off down the road. "Loopusaby gecheyyg," she thought to herself.