Shiny-hard gemstone shells glitter in early morning light and I peer through sleepy eyes, watching them crawl, wings tucked, over the hills and valleys of my white comforter. Lurid and terrible, tiny winged creatures, and my sleep-crazed brain only just puts it all together: bugs.
Spine a-crawling, I creep from bed to grab handfuls of tissue to squash out their life, and back I turn but they have disappeared.
I am waking up.
