In my experience, six o'clock was never too early to get into your pajamas. Until that night. I was in my pajamas for all of five minutes when it hit. Not enough time to truly appreciate the silky nylon and the coziness of my fluffy slipper socks. And then they had to go and bomb us. Fifteen year old Coretta is living the good life. Well, was. Now she's dead. And the world around her trapped in a single millisecond of time, right after the disaster hit. What that disaster is, she's not really sure. How does the world just stop turning, and how do you set it off again? And when you die, do you really ever leave?