The four women were huddled under a heavy mahogany table at Balthazar , an establishment that usually served eggs Benedict with a side of judgment, but was currently serving pure, unadulterated panic.
“The building shook,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “But the foundation held.” 6.6 Sex and the City
Carrie walked home through a landscape that felt like a movie set after the crew had left. People were out on their stoops, sharing bottled water and charging cables. For once, no one was looking at their phones—they were looking at each other. The four women were huddled under a heavy
Miranda, ever the pragmatist, was staring at her Blackberry. “The subways are down. The bridges are closed. We are officially trapped on an island with eight million panicked people and a dwindling supply of premium vodka.” People were out on their stoops, sharing bottled
As Carrie sat at her window later that night, the city skyline flickering back to life, she began to type.
The 6.6 magnitude earthquake didn’t just rattle the glassware in Carrie Bradshaw’s Upper East Side apartment; it shattered the fragile peace of her Sunday brunch.