… by bugs. I have bugbites everywhere. Small raised dots all along the arches of my feet. Silent predators taking bite after bite of me and leaving me with small memories of the torture. Beneath my clothes my socks inside my shoes, quietly nagging me, reminding me of the discomfort, of their small triumph over my skin.
And, of course, my bug bite salve is in my storage locker, along with everything else I own.
So all I can do is scratch the itch, and try not to break the skin.