Late summer, with its humid tunnels. Dragonflies and bees in torpor. Then a week of heavy cloud bands, hurricanes churning inland from the sea. For Rent or For Sale signs going up in neighborhoods; new coffeeshops opening while some write cautious notices about temporary closure. We're nowhere extraordinary. In fact everything is quite commonplace. And yet each body, out, moving in the open while trying to skirt another, is unsettled. Others don't want to believe anything has changed. Others mourn hard in confinement.