One million, eight-hundred thousand years

3:56 a.m., December 31, 1999 A.D.: In the cab, on the way home, Jessica realizes she's still not sure what she's doing tomorrow. There's that party in Williamsburg, but Mark really wants to be with some friends in Soho, even though Jessica's not really going to have any of her friends there. It's not a decision she's looking forward to.

9:04 a.m., December 31, 1999 A.D.: She dreams, vague wispy thoughts of open starry plains, like back home in Iowa.

2:01 p.m., December 31, 1999 A.D.: Mark is getting fucking passive-aggressive again. On the phone, that fake not-caring voice, that bullshit "whatever." She hates that word. He wants her to make the choice, but the only choice she wants—the one where she gets to be with her friends and her boyfriend as the clock strikes midnight—isn't an option.

6:51 p.m., December 31, 1999 A.D.: They're at a restaurant in Little Italy, ten of them getting full on pasta and drunk on red wine. Mark is even smiling and getting along with Jessica's friends. But they still don't know where they'll be in five hours.

12:00 a.m., January 1, 2000 A.D.