The wind whipped against Lizzie’s face and she squinted, her eyes watering as she threw herself down the street.
It had been three hours and the sun made no effort to rise up the sky, although, she presumed it to be very early morning, maybe 2 AM.

She stumbled along the road and shrunk back as a car zoomed past, though it didn’t stop, and she ran faster.
Where should she go?
Lizzie tore her sleeve from a gnarled branch and grasped the cold railing at a bridge tightly, sliding down the cold concrete and pushing her back against the wall. She bobbed her head back as her eyes fluttered closed, then flew into a stiff upright position, afraid of falling asleep.
But as the night worked its charm, she gradually slumped backwards and her eyes shut, and she fell asleep on the edge of a bridge, a large oak tree shielding her from onlookers.

But we see her morning surprise sneak up on her.