The city is already underwater on the day I drive back into Charleston, home for the summer. Rain pours down in unending sheets, my car sliding through nearly 2 feet of it as I pull off Interstate 26 onto Rutledge Avenue, the water sloshing in waves up the sides of my tires. It is June, and humid, the sky dark with storm. Roads turn to rivers and curve into one another, seeping into front yards, doorsteps. Every so often, a car stands abandoned, lights blinking in hazard, orange beams flashing into the evening.