“I’m sorry, Marcus,” Izabel blurted, too loudly. “I don’t know—”

“Your quarterly inspection,” he said.

“Ha!” she said, and her throat released itself.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I just forgot. And I’d been watching the news, and I guess I worked myself up a bit.”

“It’s awful,” he said.

She turned to Kaito, who looked calm. “Didn’t get you?”

“I had it on my calendar,” he said, with what sounded like an apology in his voice, toward Marcus, for his wife’s behavior.

“Do you mind if I get started?” Marcus said.

“Sure,” Izabel said. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Kaito went back to work and Izabel sat on the couch with her tablet. She needed something more distracting than usual. She put her earbuds in and turned on an old episode of Bridezillas. She watched a bride yell at someone over the phone as she walked down a sidewalk in the middle of the night. Bending over to yell harder, the bride took in giant breaths and turned herself pink. But she didn’t cough. And the air was clear. And her face looked beautiful, bare under a streetlamp.

When Marcus was leaving, he said everything was in order. He said he didn’t know why there was an air filtration system malfunction, but he could send the report over from the mobile unit, the one that was sent to do the repairs.

“Did you apply to move?” Izabel asked him.

He looked surprised, but he answered. “Yes.”

She nodded.

“Did your family?” he asked.

“Yeah, we did.”

“Good luck,” he said.

“You, too.”

He went back to his car, which had waited for him. It must have his equipment in it, things he might need, caulk and tape and quick-fixes that would hold until a specialist could come.

There were so many applications to move to another town that they overwhelmed the committee. Usually the committee would respond on a rolling basis, but not this time. All individuals would be notified by email on May 1st at 5 p.m.

It was mid-April now and peak pollination for pine and poplar. Over the next two weeks, it would peak for beech, birch, maple, oak, and sycamore.

After Marcus left, Izabel ordered more easy-seal plastic, and another filter—this one on wheels—so they could turn another part of their house into a safe room. The bathroom maybe. That seemed practical.

When Cami got home from school, Izabel took her to the mall, where Cami threw pebbles into the fountain.

“I wish—” she started.

But Izabel cut her off. “You’re not supposed to tell anyone.”

“Oh!” she said, and then quietly, “I wish everything was orange.” Her favorite color.

Izabel smiled at her, and she thought about an orange couch on an orange floor with orange walls and an orange coffee table, all in Cami’s hideous orange world.