I woke to an itch.
It wasn’t the simple kind you could satisfy with a quick scratch. This was a deep, persistent crawl, a phantom sensation that spread like fire ants marching beneath my skin.
I sat up, raking my nails across one arm, then my neck, then the other arm. The more I scratched, the more ferocious the itching became.
In the morning light, the room looked even worse. The mold in the corner was a black, sprawling stain, darker than I
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