She spent the summer reading back issues of  Granta  in an Adirondack chair in the front yard under the trees and bleaching random sections of her hair, only to end up coloring it a shade called Front Row . Sometimes, she could see the air because the wildfire smoke would waft in from the east or the north or south. The plums from the backyard tree were all scattered on the counter, they were all over the yard and some had even made it onto the street in front of the house. One was rotting by the window and she took a photo of it with her Pentax. The anxiety was constant: a low, loud hum that would wake up inside her. Sometimes the only trick to extinguish it was to take half a Klonopin (she'd squirreled them away into a Sorel shoebox last year) or a glass of wine. It wouldn't matter soon anyway, she was to check into "The Robert F. Kennedy Jr. Wellness Camp sponsored by Amazon" tomorrow morning at 6:13am. Packing needed to be done and it had not yet started.  A list...